How to Charm and be Charmed
by jacster07
Summary: Three years after the war, something or someone is disturbing the peace in the Wizarding world. And when Draco is put between a rock and a hard place, he hopes he doesn't regret trying to do the right thing. For Hermione, those three years had been anything but peaceful. But her world had completely changed as fast as someone could say, "Apparate."
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Draco's POV**

Moments after Draco had finally fallen asleep, he shot up wide eyed to a horrible screeching sound that was scratching against the eastern window of his master bedroom. Grabbing his wand from the nightstand, he casted Lumosmaximus and held his wand in the direction of the noise. Only to find a rustling tree branch and nothing more. He was alone. He listened once more for anything else that could be wrong in the Manor, and just like every other night, it was dead silent.

"They're not here…they won't come back…I was found completely innocent…" his whisper echoed in his mind forcing him to stay awake. When Draco had conquered his mind and was able to sleep, time unfortunately decided to jump forward. Draco woke to the sun ray's peeking through the branches in front of his window.

Draco spent the next couple of weeks in the Manor's dungeon, studying dark artifacts that had been passed down from family members. In the past, in darker times, these artifacts would have been snatched up, examined, and locked away solely because they found their way through the Malfoy bloodline. At a time like this, a time of peace, all of which Draco used were minute objects that only frustrated him into oblivion. Yet, he continued to use them in hopes to explore different possibilities of mixtures, potions, and artifacts, but Draco had very small hope – in all that he did. Time had shown there were many components that were missing and he hadn't the slightest idea of what they could be. He was trying for something new, something different, something helpful. After many failed attempts, he was running low on supplies and needed to break away from the four stone walls.

"Loxley!" in a moment after being summoned, a house elf appeared directly behind Draco. He wore the same sour expression as most house elves, but the striking difference between him and others was his tall stature. "Merlin's beard!" Draco turned after recovering his jump, "Listen, what do you know of phoenix feathers and animal heartstrings? I am needing something to combine the two, but I can't seem to figure out what I am missing!" Loxley rolled his eyes very tiresomely.

"Sir," his voice was unusually soft, "if I may…take a walk for yourself. It'll be good for…" Draco flattened his face and Apparated before Loxley could finish his sentence.

As he strolled the semi-busy streets of Diagon Alley, he cursed his house elf, "Why did I ever agree to having a house elf that wants to speak his mind…what was I thinking? I don't need someone to tell me what is necessary…" Draco wandered aimlessly almost forgetting what he was doing in the first place – the crowded streets had no comparison with how crowded his mind had been. "Loxley just wants what is best, I suppose." It was challenging, but he tried to find a reason, but sometimes it was easier to revert to his past identity. "My father would not let this go, not for a second… but everything has changed since the war."

As his thoughts tugged back and forth, Draco found himself in a bookstore carelessly going through a cabinet of mixed potions and mixed matched books. Making his way through the cabinet multiple times, his frustration and annoyance only shredded the sliver of hope he thought he had. With a curled fist and clenched teeth, he pounded the cabinet top harder than anticipated, knocking a small glass bottle off the edge and sending it shattering to the floor. Blue liquid shot down the uneven rivets in the wooden boards and falling between the cracks into an unseen room down below. Sighing, he pulled his wand out and aimed it at the spill. It was doing nothing but mocking him as it slowly seeped through the cracks.

"Be careful!" someone commanded from behind, pulling him from the bitterness of failure that was beginning to fester.

In a blink, the liquid had been swept back into its bottle and then levitated back to its home on the shelf. The bitterness spoke for him, "Could you… oh, it's you." His eye roll said more than enough. "Of course, it had to be you." _The_ Hermione Granger had to come from behind flicking her wand, showing she was always faster and wittier than everyone else. "I had this handled, Granger. No need to concern yourself." Three years after the war, and she was still slender, confident, and had a head full of curls that disobeyed their orders from Granger herself. She held the same manner Draco had remembered from school, however there was something different about her that he chose to ignore.

Granger stomped past Draco and begun to straighten up the cabinet, "It is my concern since it's my stuff." To his surprise, her voice wasn't as soft as it used to be. Out of all the unpleasant conversations they shared since they were eleven, Draco never heard harshness lace her words. The definition was tossed between harshness or callused, but he didn't want to ponder on it anymore, or at all.

Draco pushed her tone aside, and questioned "Excuse me? How is it 'your' stuff?" She pointed at the sign near the entrance coldly. "Granger's Gifts & Gadgets, huh. Well, I didn't find anything to my liking anyways." Draco took a final look around the shop acting as if he was sizing it up and left, leaving Hermione Granger in a ball of rage.

Hours after light had hidden itself from the world, Draco accepted the weights that were tied to his eyelids and forced him to find his bed and accept sleep. Only a few hours had crept through the night before he found himself wide awake staring at the ceiling in complete darkness. It was quieter than normal; there was no wind to push the branches into his window and Loxley must have been fast asleep because he couldn't hear anything down on the first floor. The only thing he heard clearly were his thoughts on the mixed brew he was trying to attempt.

"_Maybe there is a potion that can connect the two instead of making a blend, or a spell." _Draco tried as hard as he could to focus on what his Potions classes or any of the books had explained about brews. He couldn't even recall any sort of title to a book that described what he was searching for. "_I might have passed with above average scores… everything in my later years was rather distracting."_ Bringing Hogwarts classes and grades to his memory, he randomly thought of who he had seen for the first time in years. "_Absolutely not. I will not ask for her advice or assistance." _Pride was strongly flowing through his veins; he angrily turned to lay on his side. "_The war changed many views, but that doesn't mean I have to start liking everyone I come across. Especially Granger. Standing there too perfect for anybody. But was she really perfect?"_ He wanted his thoughtful comment to sound condescending, but it surprised him when it was truly concerning_. "There might have been brokenness – serves her right, for always being too mighty. Talking with a victorious tone, but no… it wasn't. It sounded more… defeated? Defeated, that's what it was." _Every other phrase he produced went against how he felt towards her. Yawning, he fought away any more thoughts that included Granger and tossed and turned until his body overpowered his mind and forced him to sleep.

The next day had held its own horrors and didn't give Draco any kind of warning nor sympathy. The emptiness and quietness of the house were too strong for his senses to handle and it showed in his work. There were more explosions and objects whizzing across the room that constantly displeased Draco. When he stepped back from his work, Loxley appeared directly in between Draco and the workbench, Draco swung a punch in defense. Expecting this, Loxley quickly moved to the side quick enough.

"Next time, you'll be too slow," Draco growled. "What is it?" Loxley handed him a plate of sliced sandwiches. Draco eased up when he finally heard his stomach grumble, "Oh, thanks." It was almost a hiss.

Loxley leaned on a workbench that held various sized books of many different subjects. Some gave insight on the magical sciences of creation on earth and in space, and gave different information on how to blend components equally and efficiently. There were a few other empty bottles that lay across the table in careless positions. Draco turned away from Loxley, sat and ate his late lunch. He stared at the many different components of his project and barely ate half the sandwich before Loxley spoke up.

"Uh hm," he coughed, "Mr. Malfoy, sir, how about acquiring assistance?" Draco pushed his light blonde hair back from his face and pivoted toward the outspoken house elf so he could show Loxley his annoyance. "You don't have to know everything." Draco was not amused that Loxley was acting more of a Butler than a common house elf servant.

Mistakes were made in Draco's past, and there were many that he had moved past. Except a more recent one; the slip of mentioning Granger to Loxley. Tension grew after the mention of her name, and Draco instantly knew he would regret it. The time was now when Draco realized he had been letting his guard down, creating less boundaries, and all it did was cause festering frustration. A certain respect had grown between the servant and master, however there were many instances – this being one of them – that Draco couldn't break. Loxley was rather intrigued with the visit, only causing greater regret with Draco. After many minutes of arguing with his house elf, Loxley finally had stepped down to his correct place and didn't ask about her again.

Time passed with the thickening silence only to welcome the night, ending another lousy and wasted day. Days dragged into weeks and he grew tired and more fearful. He kept to himself and tried to get things done without calling on Loxley. When Loxley would be in ear shot, he would hear Draco muttering, "I need to know this… if nothing else, this will be able to help." In the last couple of days of Draco's gruesome home work ethic, Loxley kept his distance. Loxley rather enjoyed his work for Mr. Malfoy but learned quickly to notice his master's temperament. Loxley knew when not to cross the line – no matter how many times he had touched it. Unfortunately, the need to assist and give Mr. Malfoy anything he wanted always triumphed over doing the sensible thing. One evening when dusk approached, Loxley created a plan to Apparate to Diagon Alley when Mr. Malfoy went up to his room after dinner.

**Loxley's POV**

It wasn't uncommon to see house elves roaming the streets of the wizarding world, but Loxley always stood out wherever he went. Being about a foot and a head taller than the rest, and having a strong egotistical complex encouraged others to stay away because they thought he was a bad omen or had been hexed. Loxley didn't mind being the outcast, and rather enjoyed being the only other person in the Malfoy Manor; it was quiet, lonely even, but he knew it worked best for him. Mr. Malfoy on the other hand, would not be comfortable in those conditions for much longer, and Loxley knew Mr. Malfoy needed friends or at least acquaintances, especially helpful ones.

Stores were flipping their signs, but 'Granger's Gifts & Gadgets' had many lights on and it's 'open' sign was still showing. Loxley traveled inside and poked his nose around. He heard a lady holler from the back that he had ten minutes before she closed. He rang the bell at the front counter to summon the person from the back.

"Hello, thank you for coming in," she greeted when she walked around the corner. Hermione's attitude changed when she saw it was a house elf. "Oh, what do you want then?" It was accustomed to Loxley to hear hostile slurs and witness rough attitudes, but it peeved him more when it came from Ms. Hermione Granger. He always heard she was different, but when he studied her, she was lean, and didn't have a lot of color in her cheeks. The frizz on her head was somewhat managed into a messy collection on the back of her head, which always stood out in all the stories he had heard. "What is it?"

Loxley cleared his throat, "My master needs something, but he doesn't know what it is." Ms. Granger raised an eyebrow and rested on the counter with one hand, unamused. Confidence was conveyed with his words, "You know what it is."

She blinked. "No I don't. Tell your master that I can do a lot of things, but reading minds isn't one of them." She didn't soften her squared shoulders or tense grip on the counter.

He sighed and tried to remember that he couldn't act the way he does towards Mr. Malfoy because other witches and wizards don't take it very well. He tried to smile, "Ma'am, he needs something in your shop, but he won't come, but if you – "

Cutting him off, she spoke louder, "Listen, if he can't do it himself then he really doesn't want it. Whatever lazy oaf you have of a master can either come get it himself or doesn't need to worry about such things! I am closing now, please get out!" This triggered Loxley; he snapped his fingers and the blinds closed, signed flipped, and door locked. "What are you doing, house elf?!" She yelled angrily. "Get out!"

"If I leave, so will you!" Loxley quickly reached over the counter and grabbed her wrist sending them both swirling and shifting through distance in a snap. When they reappeared to the normal and still world, Ms. Granger was flailing around and pulling herself from the despicable house elf. She yanked free and pulled out her wand from her pants back pocket. Nothing happened when she mumbled a spell and flicked her wand towards the ceiling. Her face was horrified. "Ma'am, listen. All I need you to do is find out what's missing. And stop flicking like that! This room is enchanted to where you can't do anything."

"Where are we!?" She didn't calm down. "Who lives here? Your master will not like this!"

He stood strong by the most used table and held his hand out, "Again, ma'am, all I need is for you to tell me the correct mixture," Ms. Granger caught the hint of worry in his voice, "it matters greatly." Loxley tried to stand still and not fidget, but he was too worried for his master and it had pinched a nerve that he couldn't be the one to give him what he needed.

Loxley kept an eye on her as she began to pace, analyzing the room. The dark and bleak room was completely closed in and held the absence of all exits – no doors or windows. "_She must be searching for an exit," _he thought. There were four tables and none of them organized, which seemed to bother Ms. Granger the most, but she fought hard not to touch anything.

"The coolness and the dampness, it reminds me of something but… what is it?" Her question was almost inaudible, but Loxley was about to hear a tingle of her good nature that leaked out of her anger. A glint of hope arose in Loxley as she slowly inched forward to where he pointed. He kept an eye on her tightened grip around her wand. "Tell me where we are and I might consider looking into it." Her demand was forced, and she saw how loyal Loxley was to the mysterious Master of his.

"A dungeon." His tone was flat.

Ms. Granger rolled her eyes and rubbed her face, "Will you let me go when I give it a look?"

A mischievous smile curled his lips that oddly resembled someone she couldn't place, "I will let you go when you tell me the missing ingredient."

Admitting defeat, she spoke loudly and with authority, "Fine. What is he wanting to make? What has he tried? What does he have for me to use?" Loxley got fidgety. "How in the world am I supposed to do this without any information?"

She started to search knowing the stubborn elf would not let her go without at least trying. Loxley saw something growing within Ms. Granger – no matter how hard she hid under the mask she wore. When she investigated the books and random potions that laid untidily across the tables in the musty room, there was a twist of curiosity but then immediately drowned out by bleakness, or maybe denial. Only a few magically lit torches illuminated the small and cramped room giving an ominous shadow across the tables and their contents. A black caldron on the side table had thin light blue liquid that continually spun and an odorless white mist spewed over the edges of from the top. Ingredients lay mixed and matched across the top of the table and there were many drawers that were carelessly closed or half opened because papers got stuck in the tracks of the desk. The combined knowledge of highly potent potions, meaningless dark artifacts, and mystical magical beings were shrouded in mystery.

**Hermione's POV**

Hermione moved over to the next table that seemed to be used the least. A leather bound book caught her eye and she was mesmerized at the picture that was engraved on the cover. A basilisk was twisted around a large sword that had many fancy jewels embedded on the hilt of it. The basilisk looked as if it was protecting the sword with its body rather than trying to constrict with harm. Trying to identify the sword, she thought it looked very similar to the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Her memory of what the sword looked like was too far back in her mind to come up with a certain conclusion. However, simply thinking about the sword gave her a chilled memory of a horrible night she had hoped to buried deep within. When she remembered the horrible night of torture in the Malfoy Manor many years ago by that evil witch, her expression began to betray her. The glare she held transformed as she fixated on the memory a bit longer and couldn't help feel the guilt boiling inside of her as she vividly remembered the outcome of that day. It was all supposed to be repressed and dealt with, apparently not.

"Ma'am?" Loxley broke her trance.

Hermione turned towards the elf, as she put the book down and started to slightly rub her left forearm. "What is it?"

"It's a matter of life and death, Ms. Granger. You're brilliant with any study, as far as I'm told."

Hermione saw the challenge, but didn't care to indulge in childish games anymore – it didn't peak her interest as much as it used to. "Look, if you give me something to go on, I can try to research it at home. Come to me after I close tomorrow and I promise I will let you know what I find." Loxley noticed the struggle it was for her to stay focused. He squinted at her, searching for truth and but could only find sorrow. With a quick snap, Hermione was standing behind the counter at her shop, alone and quiet – something she has grown accustomed to.

The next morning, Hermione took everything slow, and with extreme caution. She had hoped last night would have been an end to the house elf madness, but she knew that would be impossible. They were driven, and loyal; Hermione knew too much of this. Anticipation came with every chime from the bell that rested above the entrance of her shop. With every chime, she held her breath, but then released it when she saw it was just an ordinary witch or wizard. To her liking, her shop was empty of any house elves all day. The day wasn't hard, but instead long and tedious, and the longer she was out front the more she grumbled at owning a business.

At the end of some long days, Hermione would swirl into the darkness of her mind with an aching 'what if' question or a hurting thought of how things could be different, but she was determined not to be swallowed up by darkness. As she went to pull the blinds down and lock up physically and magically, she instead turned toward the hutch next to the front window. The bottle filled with thick blue liquid that was broken a couple of weeks ago, sat lonely on the shelf. Everything telling her to give up on the mysterious and criminal side quest the elf brought to her was ignored by the little itch of curiosity. Hermione's itch was as foreign as a goblin having a pleasant conversation. However, there it was, sitting in a tiny glass bottle with a cork top calling out to her. As she grabbed the bottle to examine it further, she blinked hard in realization. This was something she didn't want, something she gave up for the better, and just like that, Hermione Granger retreated once more behind a thick wall. Before she put the bottle back in its rightful home, Loxley appeared to her left.

"Ma'am hurry!"

In a flash, she was finding her footing in what seemed like a large bedroom. Darkness had blanketed the entire room. As her eyes adjusted she saw an outline of a very large black figure hovering above a motionless body lying on the floor. The figure was in ripped black robes that flowed even when the figure was motionless, and a hood covered its head and part of its face. Loxley tugged at Hermione's arm and pleaded for help as she stood there frozen in misconception.

"Ms. Granger! Your wand, ma'am!"

Hermione broke the fear that froze her recognizing the Dementor. She thought hard on a happy moment, and unfortunately it was difficult for her to do something that came so naturally to her many years ago. The figure was now inches above the motionless body on the floor sucking everything it could out of the poor being. Hermione gulped her fear down and pointed her wand at the Dementor and yelled, "Expecto patronum!" A bright blue light grew from the end of Hermione's wand as it got closer to hovering black figure. The otter that was created from the wisps and flutters of the white mist grew out of the charm and had raced around the fear-filled creature causing it to break from its victim and howl in disgust. Hermione's concentration was slowly fading and her charm was loosening its effect as the hooded figure turned her way. The more she tried to find happiness, the more she was beginning to fail. Her otter used everything it could to spin the attention of the Dementor away from its conjurer and when Hermione caught sight of her otter working as hard as it could, she then heard the laughter of joy and happiness from her past.

She stood her ground and whipped her wand, along with the charm, out towards the open window. The Dementor was captured in the otter's path and was forced outside and into the darkness. Hermione dropped to her knees taking in slow breaths. Happiness rang through her body, her veins, but not her emotions. Capturing the darkness not only drained its victim, but it drained her in another way. The difficult reminder of retrieving those powerful memories left her in despair.

Hermione flicked her wand and magically lit the room with light. The objects that were recovered throughout the room, gave her a place of distinction. The bedroom was large enough to hold a king size bed, three dressers and cabinets and a highly used desk that sat by the door. A door to her right that was completely open showing an outline of a bathroom. Decorations in the room were slim, but she could tell the room held more value in it than what she held dear in her flat. Her exploration was interrupted by a cry.

"Master! Please!" Loxley was knelt down at the side of his master who wore a pair of Muggle dark grey sweatpants and a very thin plain white T-Shirt. Hermione approached slowly, assessing the scene. "Master, come on you lazy oaf!" Hermione was taken aback when she heard the elf call his master a negative name. Loxley kept yanking on the body and there was finally slow movement. Hermione peeked her head around Loxley's shoulder and caught the unconscious man's identity.

"Malfoy?" Hermione almost choked on his name.

**Hey lovely people! Thank you for taking your time and reading the first part (to many!) of my first long - short Dramione story! I'm super excited (also very nervous...) to get this complete for all of you. Please stay tuned and comment and tell me what you think :) It'll keep me motivated and encouraged to keep going. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Hermione's POV**

She wasn't sure if she was angry or concerned. Malfoy was alive, but completely unconscious and Loxley was still in a panic over it. His whimpers over his fallen master unfortunately forced Hermione to be logical – no matter how fast the list grew of hexes that ran through her mind that were at the tip of her wand. She stepped toward the broken house elf and aimed her wand at the helpless Malfoy. With a swish, she whispered, "Mobilicorpus."

Malfoy's body followed the path of Hermione's wand with ease; irritation cultivated inside of her seeing the way the night was panning out. Quietness and emptiness that filled her flat and shop was exactly where she longed to be. After Loxley could breathe normally again, Hermione's plans were to return to her shop and crawl into her bed and fall fast asleep and forget all the unfortunate events that had unfolded.

Loxley stood by his master's bedside with worry, "Those evil things… we thought we were past such things." He shivered at the breeze that snuck through the open window. He rushed over and slammed it shut filling the room with a loud bang; Malfoy slowly turned his head, but stayed asleep.

Hermione inched towards the bed and stared at Malfoy for a long minute. Raggedness covered him, tiredness engulfed him, and emptiness surrounded him. From the ruffled blond hair to his calloused palms, nothing Hermione saw seemed familiar with the boy who teased her and fought against those she loved. She snapped back to reality and disregarded the thoughts of the past. She tried to convince herself the twisting and turning of her stomach would subside. Malfoy's chest calmly rose and fell as if he had chosen to take a peaceful nap.

Loxley was on the opposite side of the bed, "Oh, Master Malfoy. Wake up soon, I will get some eggs ready for you. And toast. You like toast." And without warning, Loxley Apparated out of the room.

In a surprising instant, her attention switched from exploration to frustration. Her freckled nose wrinkled as her cheeks ran hot. Without thinking twice, she slapped Malfoy across the cheek hard enough to leave a red mark across his face and her palm tingling. Her hand curled up in a fist to help ignore the shock when he shot up in his bed cursing.

"In Merlin's name! Why?!" He angrily rubbed his cheek. He searched the room for answers and found Hermione Granger standing at his bedside with disgust and irritation in all aspects it can show through body language. Her fist was curled in a ball ready for another swing, but this time she started to calculate all of the options. "Granger? What?!" Malfoy wasn't sure if he needed to be more shocked about why she stood in his room or why she slapped him.

**Draco's POV**

Granger closed her eyes and took a deep breath in and released it with a nasty retort, "Why is it _always _you? Why do I always find you behind all the bad? You disgust me Malfoy! It isn't surprising you would stoop so low and start kidnapping people!" Draco's expression switched from fury to confusion. She cut him off before he could interrupt, "NO! You snake of a person! You can't even be a man enough to do the work yourself, you have to give orders to others to do your own dirty work!" Draco blinked in utter confusion and searched for any word combination that could calm her down and talk to him rationally. When something came to mind, it was too late. Hermione Granger had Apparated leaving Draco in his quiet room, alone and completely bewildered.

Draco grabbed his jacket and pulled his shoes on while yelling for Loxley. "Get up here now!" Draco was filled with too much blistering heat from being sideswiped in his own home, to be anything but level-headed. Loxley appeared a couple of feet away from Draco holding a silver platter with some toast and juice on it. "Loxley! Why in the world, was Granger here slapping me back to consciousness?!" He angrily stepped toward the wide eyed elf who was speechless. "She mentioned that someone was doing my bidding for me? What was that Loxley?!" The platter started to shake from Loxley's nervousness. He had never witnessed his master this way. Without thinking, Draco flung the platter out of the house elf's hands and it and its contents were scattered across the floor. "TELL ME, NOW!" Draco heard the voice of his father.

"…your… brew…" Loxley couldn't breathe, and when he released those words, Draco glared and then Apparated. Loxley fell to his knees and covered his face in shame and fright.

Fluttering papers that were caught by the brisk wind were the only movement in Diagon Alley. Clouds covered most of the sky hiding the moon creating an eerie darkness that tried to distract Draco from finding out the truth. His nerves were on edge shifting his focus from one shadow to another ruling out any possibility of it actually being another Dementor hunting for its prey. The chill in the air was similar to the emptiness that transpired earlier that night – he had hoped such events had ended a long time ago. This was another reason for Draco to abandon all sense of the word, _hope. _It never fulfilled any promise or satisfaction. Wanting more than to solve the problem he didn't want or need, he unfortunately knew he had to fix the new problem first. He flipped his hood up and blocked his peripheral vision, decreasing the amount of shadows that could toy with his mind.

Finding his way to Granger's bookshop, he stopped in his tracks when he found the door ajar, shelves turned upside down and broken pieces of glass outlining the ground below the front window. Examining the scene, all of the cells in his body had screamed and ached to Apparate away from the wreckage and forget everything and return to his comfort zone of being alone. As his heel started to pivot, there was a moment where he felt a minuscule tug to root his stance. When he saw a head full of curls pop up from under the window, he rushed inside without giving a second thought.

"Granger? What happened?" He swung himself through the door and slid to Granger who was knelt down sobbing. Completely blind sighted and betrayed by his actions, an instant of regret washed over him. Snide remarks were loaded at the tip of his tongue, but the willingness to spew them out had seemed to dwindle.

She whipped her head towards him showing her tear stained cheeks and red puffy eyes. Anger was attempted but sadness consumed her reply, "Why…does it always… have to be you?"

Draco tried to reach for her clenched fist to help her relax but she flinched away. He tightened his jaw from the rejection and silently cursed himself by reaching out to her in the first place. Draco had never been comfortable with expressing or conveying any form of emotion through physical touch. It took all he had to even console his own mother. It was when he had witnessed (only once) a single tear roll down his mother's cheek. But she had been grateful for his comforting touch by allowing her lip to curl into a small smile. Neither Draco nor his mother had ever been brought up since.

Hermione's sharp tone cut him back to reality, "How dare you?! Leave me be!" She continued to sob as she flung from her position and hurried to the back past the counter, almost ripping the curtain from the hooks.

When the jaw-clenching sobs exited the room, Draco's strong urge to leave had his cells in a raging fit as he pulled out his wand. Glass pieces from both sides of the door and window came together like puzzle pieces and closed up any openings leading to the outside. A multitude of past events have left him regretful and calloused, but he loathed being in debt and was absolutely positive he was going to have a clean slate by the end of the night with Hermione Granger. Making sure the locks were unbreakable and the blinds were shut, he stood staring at the opened door leading to the staircase up to her flat. He only wanted to clear his debt, and that didn't mean he needed to make her feel better. Then, it all changed when a shriek came from the stairs.

Flying up the stairs, Draco found a weeping Granger on her knees holding a broken wooden box. The bedroom was completely ransacked: the sheets were torn, clothes lay everywhere, and drawers flung open. Draco's blood started to pump. The sight was appalling no matter what blood ran through their veins. His stomach started to twist with empathy, "_She means nothing to me, what's this matter to me?"_ Draco's mind cut back and forth, and in some occurrences, he heard his father's voice in his head instructing him what to do. He shook it off when the cries ceased.

As tiny broken pieces of wood slipped through her fingers, it took all of her emotion with as will. Her breaths were short and her eyelids were nearly swollen shut from the hidden tears waiting to be released. Draco felt the knives go through him when she locked eyes with him.

"Get…ou," before she finished her command, her knees gave out and gravity took place. Draco flung himself forward and grabbed her before she hit her head on the side of the desk. He was at a loss as he held an unconscious Hermione Granger in his lap.

The warmth from her body made his skin burn, but _how _it burned was questionable. Trying to find something else to focus on, he cleared off a spot on the floor with his foot and slid her onto the clean area wrinkling his nose up with distaste. Many questions ran through his mind as he examined the small upstairs flat. "_Why would _anyone _want to break into this place? There's nothing here. Ugh, what am I going to do with her?" _He spotted a spiral journal on the desk that appeared very well used. He flipped through the very filled pages trying to find any contact she knew that could help her. The more pages Draco flipped, the more he started to realize it was a diary. He slammed it closed and dropped it back onto the end table wanting to forget some of the information he picked up. "_Potter is too far away to reach by owl tonight, and she obviously is living alone so there isn't a relationship going on there. Her family! Does she have any family?"_

Going through Hermione's room, Draco realized everything was a lot more bleak and simple than he would've expected. It was strange to only find the same two people mentioned throughout her belongs. And for Draco, both were unfortunately unavailable. He knew - he was sure - there was more about her than this bland taste that currently surrounded him. Even though she was obnoxious and arrogant, Granger wasn't ever alone. In her obnoxious attempts to out-answer everybody in class, people still adored her. Her arrogant aroma never repelled anybody which only caused more confusion for Draco as he stood at her bare desk.

Draco started to grow envious over the memories of how easy everything turned out for her. "_Simply ironic. The one who had it all together was now surrounded by brokenness."_ All that he had grown up with aged him more than years could count, but had all those events truly been from him constantly being at the wrong place at the wrong time? Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Draco continued to search the room for any other contact he could reach so they could lend her their aid. Nothing came up. The picture frames held old photos, the latest date on the letter was from six months ago, and the loss of all hope blew out the open window. Hope – the simple thought of the word spewed venom down his throat.

Frustration captivated his mind and wanting nothing else than to Apparate back to the Manor, he took a quick glance down at the helpless girl on the floor and froze. "Um," he stared at Granger laying there with weak breaths. "Right." He took the thin blanket that was balled up on the bed and threw it carelessly over her. Satisfied, he Apparated to the Manor.

Standing in the middle of his room, he called out for Loxley. Seconds went by and still no sign of his house elf. He turned expecting him to be inches away, but only found empty space. Draco's eyes fell to spilled toast and Pumpkin juice that was spread across the floor in front of his bedroom door. Draco cursed himself and balled up his fists holding in anger that had been ignited by his own foolishness. He took a deep breath, then exited his room to search the grounds.

Loxley was nowhere to be found in the Malfoy Manor, and a mix of rushed irritation and embarrassment flowed through Draco's fast pumping veins. The night had just begun, and it was already the worst he has had in a very long time. He convinced himself Loxley would return at some point and there was no way he could track a house elf's magic. Going back to his bedroom, Draco bent over and cleaned up the mess he had created.

**Hermione's POV**

Entering the world slowly, Hermione blinked a couple of times to gather herself and collect her bearings. Everything in the room was sideways and she didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. The pounding headache restrained her from sitting up any faster than a turtle trying to purposely lose a foot race. The lazily placed blanket that she found over her had dropped to the floor when she tried to stand and fight the wobbliness of her knees and ankles. When Hermione's senses started to come back, she noticed the destroyed room that surrounded her. Everything was in its wrong place, and most of everything that was breakable was broken. Sadness trapped her where she stood, however there were no more tears to be shed even though she felt her chest start to harden.

When she regained enough strength, she charmed the room to mend itself. The broken glass from her mirror was put back into its place with no scratches, the pages that were torn out of her books were fit back into their rightful places, and her furniture were pieced back together to regain their functionality. As she double checked her belongings, she saw wooden pieces that still scattered the carpeted floor. Hermione knelt down and slowly picked each piece up and tried to mend it together by hand. After a few tries, she grew frustrated and threw them all on the top of her dresser. She sighed and examined herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and were unbelievably dry. The curls that once were in a tidy ponytail had escaped and circled her head in many different directions. Tiresome and ready for sleep, she redid her hair and turned toward her bed. She couldn't get herself to move any further.

"_My home was broken into… it doesn't feel safe anymore…" _she crossed her arms seeking comfort. "_Where would I go? Harry and Ginny are in Ireland and my parents are in Australia."_ Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a thud from a book hitting the ground from downstairs. Her wand at hand, she inched her way down the stairs. She mumbled a spell that released a tiny black ball from the end of her wand and traveled throughout the shop.

Hermione didn't continue until she heard someone curse, "What?!" the voice went silent and then _thud_ – they had fallen to the ground.

When she peeked around the corner she noticed half of her store had been put back together. Behind the furthest bookshelf, she saw the pair of legs that had been tangled by her vine enchantment. Keeping her wand at the ready, she was ready to hex the intruder into oblivion. The body continued to struggle from the vines and the more they struggled, the more the vines tightened. Hermione leaped from behind the bookshelf and aggressively aimed her wand at the trapped intruder.

A head of blond hair and icy blue eyes shocked Hermione. "Malfoy? Really?" His red face was intensifying the more he struggled. His eyes were growing angrier, but eased his struggling once he noticed who hexed him. Hermione stood over the entangled Malfoy with arms crossed and carrying an unpleasant expression. "What on earth are you doing here?" She was too weak to have a full confrontation with him, but she didn't want him to notice this. Malfoy tried to frown angrily, hoping he would get her attention to release him from the vines. "Oh, yeah." The vines began to shrink in size and then disappear, the original color had filled his cheeks once more – even if it was never a lot to begin with.

Malfoy scooted towards the wall behind him and leaned against it, rubbing his throat. He started to cough, "Merlin… that could've killed me…" Hermione rolled her eyes and kept her wand aimed at him. "Lower that, why don't you? I'm not the one who you need to be hexing." She observed Malfoy as he recovered from the vines; he seemed different, grown. Anger was controlling him, but she could tell he was trying to fight it, something the younger Malfoy would have fed off of. Knowing who he was, she knew he had to be that same foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach from before. No matter how captivating the definition of his aged skin radiated attractiveness, she had absolutely no interest in examining anything deeper than his skin. It was barbaric to even come across such a thought.

"What are you doing here? Why is my shop almost cleaned?" She relaxed her hand holding the wand, but kept a tight grip on it as a defense. "Didn't I tell you to leave?" Hermione tried to ask this in confidence, but couldn't fully remember what had been shared between them.

Malfoy brushed off where he still felt the tightening vines and leaned his head back to rest on the wall. He tried to control his words, "I did leave, and then came back. I needed to…" His pride quieted him. A white lie escaped his mouth instead, "I couldn't sleep so I figured helping you would be my good deed for the month."

Not expecting any more than a high class privileged remark she hissed, "Don't pity me Malfoy! You are the cause, every time! You need to accomplish more than one good deed a month to earn your place back into the world!" Malfoy heard the sorrow at the base of her anger and was curious on why she kept blaming him for anything, but then immediately disregarded it.

Malfoy rose to his feet in impatience. "Look here, Granger. If you have kept a three year old grudge, specifically about me, I'm flattered. But you need to get over it because some of us are trying to live with their mistakes and move past them!" Her reaction was unpredictable and completely caught him off guard.

Hermione's knuckles went white as she curled and clenched her fist. Her head hung low enough her loose curls fell in front of her face. "You are the reason..." She gritted her teeth, "he is dead." Her brows were pinned together with fury.

Malfoy stepped back and hit the wall, "What? Who?" Fear overthrew him. "_I haven't killed anybody! If I couldn't kill someone that was ordered by the Dark Lord himself, who would I be able to kill?"_ He tried to search for answers through his memory, and then his stomach churned and twisted. "Granger?"

Hermione snapped. Before Malfoy knew it, he was pinned by his shoulder to the wall with her left arm, and she held her wand at his throat with her right. Her eyes were flooded with anger and malice, "I have waited for this moment." The tremble of her words echoed across the bookshelves, and having Malfoy in her grasp fueled the flame she had longed for.

_**Hey everyone! Thank you for reading the next part to my FIRST long "short" story. For those who are following, I am SO sorry for not updating sooner. I wanted to post this earlier this week, but I was waiting on edits (which didn't work out the way I wanted - so I finally just decided to give it to you!) Anyways, I hope you enjoy this next part, and I will be posting more regularly. Please leave a comment and let me know what y'all think! As always, you are ALL wonderful! **_

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything, just the plot. I'm not that good!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three** **Draco POV**

Draco saw hurt and loss in her eyes, and the words she spoke longed for hatred. He stiffened his body out of confusion. This was Granger, Hermione Granger attacking him, and he was at a loss at how to handle it. Their third year confrontation was not comparable to this. The moment Granger took a hold of Draco's throat, he could feel her pounding heartbeat rushing through her fingers. Recognizing Granger's loose grip was too shaky, he was confident there wouldn't be any effect on his breathing; he loosened up a bit, but not enough to lower his guard. An uncontrollable sneer crept across his face when he saw this encounter lean in his favor. No matter how much he wanted something more to happen after his sneer, he knew it was no more than an empty threat. And for some reason he felt compelled to let her continue, let her release this unknown tension. He had been completely at fault when he was punched by her before, but this time he was more concerned and curious with her anger than wanting to relish in it. "_Maybe something _has _changed in her."_

Granger began her rant with teary eyes, but her tears never rolled down her cheeks, "Listen you _Pureblood_," he squinted as she slurred the poor insult, "everything you do has wrecked everything! I replay everything in my mind trying to hold onto what is good, but I have been coming up short, and for some reason," she started to lower her voice in self-defeat, "it always comes back to you. The root of it all," Draco glanced past her, catching a glimpse of movement, but was jerked back to her sour face, "No! Look at _me_, you dirty snake! Look what you have done! If your stupid elf didn't kidnap me – for the second time – to save your sorry behind, my shop would have been locked up, warded, safe." Her tone intensified and her grip tightened around his throat; Draco narrowed his eyes at her searching for her bluff. "If you wouldn't have fallen into darkness and cowardice, during the Last Battle many people would still be alive," she swallowed hard as she continued. "If you weren't…." Draco had heard these empty wishes for three years and was getting tired of being the blame. His focus shifted and concentrated more on the thin fingers tightening around his airway. When she continued, he reached for her left hand and tried to easily pull her off, but she wasn't budging. "If you were more thoughtful or responsible, or had less of an ego to uphold, he wouldn't be dead!" Out of complete fury, she pinched her fingers around his throat.

He tried once last time to break her from her tunnel vision, "Grang…Hermi…" but she didn't budge. Draco reached for her wand, and yanked it away, casting it aside. As he grabbed it, he heard a snap of a finger and in an instant, her eyes shut and she fell to the ground. Draco reached for her before she completely fell and was shocked to see Loxley behind her.

Standing tall, Loxley stood on some books that hadn't been cleaned up yet with wide eyes filled with victory. How could a master be upset with his house elf now that he has saved his master from an attacker? Especially from a witch such as Hermione Granger. "Sir, I did that for you."

Draco rubbed his throat and could still feel her powerful fingers around his neck. Conflicted and filled with guilt, he wanted to deal with Loxley's behavior at another time. "I had it handled," Loxley heard the gratitude when Draco told him this. Checking his watch, Draco saw it was past midnight and everyone was in need of a very long rest. With Hermione's sleeping body at Draco's feet, he spun her around and scooped her up with both of his arms. When he got her situated in his arms, her jacket sleeve had been pushed up and he surprisingly flinched when he saw '…lood' scarred on her forearm. He knew what he needed to do, "Merlin's beard."

Loxley was clearly upset, "But sir, you can't! Not her! Why her? She doesn't deserve to go there!"

Draco heard her words clear as day in his mind, and he wanted to prove that famous Hermione Granger wrong, "Because Loxley, it's what Harry freakin' Potter would do!" He then Apparated out of the shop and appeared in the Malfoy Manor, knowing his slate was far from clean.

The night had calmed down and Loxley explained that the witch could wake up soon, but the sleeping hex was powerful enough to keep her in that state for at least a couple of days. Trying to passively earn his master's graces again, Loxley advised him to try and make her comfortable and see reason when she woke. When he thought of his master having an acquaintance of some sort, he definitely didn't want to in these circumstances. Pacing in front of his bedroom fireplace, Draco tried to come up with a solution other than Loxley's. Yes, bringing her here was to prove he wasn't who he was six years ago, or even two years ago. Yes, it was rather a rash decision, but what else was he supposed to do?

Patience was disregarded, "Sir, what I meant was – "

"Yes! I _know_!" Draco rubbed his face and sighed deeply. "I blame you…" Loxley felt the coldness of his words, but understood his words were not laced with hatred and nastiness.

Draco Apparated directly into Granger's flat in search of necessities. Draco hadn't completely thought through his plan, and when he did think of it, he recognized the selfishness behind his actions. And to him, it was knowing the greater good was in his favor.

Searching for all that she might need, Draco found it comical that, even at her lowest points, it was still second nature for her to be completely organized. Staring blankly at her clothes, his comical feeling was lost when he realized what Granger would call necessary would be completely different than the average person. Granger was and always had been more than average. She was different, peculiar even, constantly puzzling those around her. Draco was never good with puzzles.

After ten minutes felt like an hour while analyzing her closet, Draco teleported a pile of clothes to the Manor. He scanned her flat once more for any other essentials that would ease the frazzled unwanted enigma that was in his guest bedroom. Books? Journals? Pictures? All the objects he thought would come in handy were old, dusty, unused. The letters on her desk were still from months ago, the neatly organized books had been noticeably untouched for a long time, and the two pictures were magically empty of people. Curiosity leaked through his annoyance. The _devoted _Granger not as in touch with her surroundings, the _intelligent_ Granger not reading her books, and the _friendly_ Granger lonelier than expected. The puzzle was starting to grow. Not wanting to spend any more time in her flat, he left everything where it was and Apparated back to the Manor.

Morning came too soon, but to Draco's surprise he slept like a rock and started his day with more energy than what he was used to. Staying busy at his desk, studying and writing notes in various books, it took him half the morning to remember he had an unwanted guest across the hall. After finishing up with his notes, he convinced himself to quickly check to see if she was at least breathing. With light steps, he crossed the hall and stood at the sleek plain black guest door. Even though the whole Manor was bleak, but elegant, he rather enjoyed how simplistic it was – nothing complicated, everything was at face value.

A soft knock came from Draco's knuckles hitting the door, and when there was no response he slowly turned the knob. Still with no objection, Draco peeked through the slit and scanned the room. It was almost hard to find her, but Granger was still sleeping tangled in all of her blankets. She was still wearing the same clothes from last night and the pile of new clothes on the end table were untouched. With a sigh of satisfaction, Draco gently latched the door shut and went on about his business for the day.

Over the years, Draco had his share of Muggle appliances and the only one he didn't throw across the room in frustration was the television. There were still many things he didn't understand about it, however it was found more useful day after day. Relaxing in his study after a late breakfast, the regional news and its weather reports reminded him how close the Christmas holiday was. Planning out his holiday preparation, his heart dropped when one of the muggle news anchors complained about random dangerous encounters with black hooded figures hidden in shadows. He turned the volume up on the television and listened with a close ear.

"Yes, Sally, that's correct. When the streets of London go dark, there have been sightings of random beings lurking in the shadows. Victims say when the creatures are done with them, they have lost all sense of happiness." Draco turned the television off trying to keep his nerves in check. Knowing the severity of Dementors and their unfading grudge they held with him, doubt began to erase the plan of his trip to London.

No matter the severity of threats, traditions were never to be broken. Even the Second Wizarding War wasn't strong enough to break Malfoy family traditions of birthdays or holidays, especially Christmas. In the days of solitude and regrowth, Draco was still proud to be a Malfoy, and no matter how tortured or tainted his name might be, there were many things that he didn't want to give up. Accepting this and cursing himself for even the thought of breaking tradition, he returned to his room to change. Little by little, Draco had eventually admitted – never out loud – certain Muggle clothes were more comfortable than the wizarding attire he was raised in. As he searched his closet for his thick black leather jacket, he called for Loxley.

"Loxley," Draco wanted to be on good terms with him, but he knew his request would get him further away from his goal. "I need you to help me with something." Loxley perked up when he thought of assisting his master. Draco grew to understand Loxley within the first couple of months of his employment. Loxley was proud, and a creature of habit – loyalty was etched into his soul and nothing was ever going to break that trait. However, many lines had been crossed by both parties, and respect always had to be regained. Giving Loxley opportunities to serve showed him the respect Draco had for him, which was the first step towards forgiveness. "I'm headed into the city and I need you to watch over the Manor." Loxley slumped his shoulders instantly reading between the lines. "I'll be back before sunset, and when I get back I will let you cut any tree down for our tree this year. How about that?" Loxley squinted at him, but Draco spotted the hint of glee that tried to sparkle through Loxley's eyes.

"I get to pick… pick the tree?" Loxley has always wanted this duty, and was willing to give up his fight for this prize. Draco nodded and Loxley agreed, "Certainly." Draco zipped up his jacket and Apparated to the busy Leaky Cauldron.

There were a few wizarding stores he wanted to visit before his search through the Muggle shops. In the streets of the wizarding world, some known faces gave him disgusted glares, and no matter how many insults boiled inside of him, Draco kept his distance and kept out of trouble. Many people were still very sensitive about the war, and even though it was well known the Malfoy's had turned from their past loyalties they were still distraught with Draco's appearance. Eyes followed and burned the back of him as he went from shop to shop.

Confused on why and how Dementors have been revealing themselves in the presence of Muggles, he knew he couldn't let his guard down, even in the magical world. "_Something must be happening at the Ministry… how could their hold on them be wavering?"_ His thoughts carried him through his holiday shopping. While collecting his last items before leaving for the Muggle shops, he visited Loxley's sister's shop; she was a seamstress and has been working for multiple witches and wizards as a clothes designer. Once he completed his order of stockings, he turned to leave but the Daily Prophet had distracted him.

"On the hunt - many break ins have occurred over the past week, causing great stress to Dementors. Be aware! These break ins have been targeted - what we think to have been planned houses, and Dementors have been on the hunt for anyone suspicious."

Ignoring the nauseating churns of his stomach, he continued through a couple of streets of Muggle London. Muggles were on high alert and were beginning to panic from the unknown creatures that have only been spotted a few times. They spoke with confidence and concern, and it took all Draco had to keep silent. In the last store he found, there were two men conversing over the mysterious hooded figures that lurk in the darkness.

"The weather has been very unpredictable. That must be what you felt."

"Stan, no. The chill cut through my skin and made my bones ache. Wind couldn't have done that. It was like, like –"

"No, Bill! If you say that word again, I will leave you alone in that alley."

"I know it's not real, but magic is the only explanation. It's just odd! The way they floated, hovered – searching! That's what it was! They were searching!"

Draco left the store in a hurry, with only the Manor in thought. "_They will be after me again… I know it."_ He needed to find a solution to help him with any more Dementor attacks. He shook his head and squinted hard, hoping the thought would not come alive, but alas, it did. He needed Granger to wake up.

**Hermione's POV**

Muffled music drug Hemione out of her sleep and with a couple of blinks she noticed she was in a dimly lit room. She jerked up trying to untangle from the bed sheets, but her pounding headache clouded her sense of position and then she fell onto the floor. Hardening her face and silently cursing the situation, she glanced over the room, quickly recognizing and identifying the simplicity and shallowness of the décor.

The music kept dragging her attention outside of the bedroom, but she ignored the serenity it began to fill her with. Shoving the music to the back of her mind, she tried to piece together what happened and how she got here. Her flat and shop had been ransacked, and there were memories of Malfoy being there. The simple thought of him soured her memories and instantly felt the warmth of his throat in her grip; she shuddered with guilt. Another verse had rang through the bedroom – it was a particular piano piece, very recognizable, but there was an oddity to it.

Hermione was unsettled to notice a pile of fresh clothes that rested on top of the night stand. she shivered as she searched for a suitable group of clothes to wear to her stay warm. Even though she found her favorite pair of skinny jeans and a floral blouse, she couldn't find a jacket. She told herself she couldn't show any vulnerability even if it was towards the bitter cold. The music pushed its way to the front of her attention and she tried to stay uninterested.

In frustration and confusion, Hermione came across the bathroom after opening two closet doors and the way out to the hallway. As she began to change out of her clothes, the shower was too inviting to deny. She conjured up shower necessities and ignored the awkward feeling of showering in what she assumed to be the Malfoy Manor after recognizing the common theme that shouted the family's personality - bleak and simple. Steam filled the bathroom as she covered herself with fresh clean clothes, but grumbled when the steam and cleanliness did nothing to ease her pounding headache.

After a few more conjurations, Hermione evened out the bags under eyes with some concealer, and plastered on a strong unbeatable expression. Malfoy would aim to get under her skin, intimidate her, push her, but she was in need of control. Practicing lines and facial expressions in the mirror, she was ready to get answers.

The hallway outside the room was filled with silence and mystery. When she sought out the direction of where the music originated from, it had now chosen to become mute. Many portraits of late witches and wizards hung completely symmetrical with one another along the wall, to her surprise they were all lifeless and still – another oddity. There were a lot of similarities in each of the different facial expressions and when she finally reached the end of the hallway she recognized Malfoy and his immediate family. Lucius and Narcissa stood behind their son each having a hand on his shoulder; he must have either been in his fourth or fifth year at Hogwarts when this was painted. Hermione stepped closer to the painting and tried to diagnose what they were thinking. Malfoy's parents stood in confidence and snobbishness, but when she trailed down to label their son, she noticed he held a different tone. He sat with the same snobbishness as his parents, but behind his icy eyes there was a flicker of lost hope.

Her curious nature sparked when the piano began again, but now it was louder, fiercer. As the keys continued to be played, Hermione broke her concentration from the painting and tipped toed down the stairs, hoping to gather as much information on her own as possible. At the foot of the stairs, she entered a large room that only had a long table occupying its space. Chills ran down her spine when she realized where she saw how similar this room was to where she was before. Her feet were rooted to the second to last step of the stairs, and then worry crawled through her, "_What if his parents are in here… would he seriously bring me here if they would want to kill me? I wouldn't put it past him."_ Before she finished her thoughts, Loxley appeared on the last step of the stairs.

"Stop spying." He was cold, but for some reason, joy sparkled in his eyes when he noticed Hermione flinched at his sudden appearance.

Hermione retorted offensively, "I am not spying!" She did, however, keep it at a whisper, not wanting to alert anyone else that could be near.

Then, as he yelled, her blood began to boil and then it rushed to her cheeks in fear and mortification, "The witch is up and outside, _lurking_!" Loxley turned and casually strolled into the next room as he announced her presence. The piano abruptly stopped, and she didn't hear anything else. Hermione couldn't move, she held her breath hoping it was anyone else besides Malfoy's parents.

"Why are you lurking?" Malfoy came around the corner crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe to the room Loxley had entered. "Glad to see you're awake." Hermione caught the blandness of his tone, but she couldn't help but ask the list of questions growing in her mind.

"Why am I here? Did you bring me here? Why would you bring me _here, _of all places?" She was now searching around the large room she was in, trying not to be too obvious on what she was doing. "What happened?"

"Calm down. Loxley, please get, Ms. Granger," he emphasized her name to him, "a plate of dinner. Maybe if her mouth is full, she wouldn't talk so much." Hermione caught the snicker from Loxley before he snapped his fingers and disappeared. Malfoy pivoted and disappeared into the room. When she didn't immediately follow him, she heard him call out to her, "Are you going to stand there all night?"

Still flustered, she entered the next room with caution. She loosened up a tad when she noticed it was free of anyone else but shocked when Hermione saw the Christmas decorations magically hung across the room. In the far corner off to the right was a large Christmas tree with white sparkling lights covering it and there was a moving train (that resembled the Hogwarts Express) circling the base of it; it was the most beautiful tree she had laid her eyes upon. Snowy garland was pinned across the top of every wall where it met the ceiling and lights were strung across the edge of the already lit fireplace giving the fire more of a natural glow. On the other side of the room, she saw Malfoy sitting at a baby grand piano that was very sleek and well taken care of. In the far corner behind the piano, she saw a hutch full of village buildings and miniature sized figures that were magically moving throughout the building, making it appear very lively and full of the holiday spirit.

Malfoy leaned his back to the piano and pushed his sleeves up and offered Hermione to sit. She ignored his offer and stood next to the warming fire and crossed her arms in stubbornness. Before she turned to face the fire, she caught the figure of a tattooed snake and skull on his arm, and she shuddered. Hermione tried to focus on the crackling and popping of the lit fire and not the whirls of thoughts and concerns that burdened her.

"What day is it?" Hermione was quiet, but impatient. "I need to get back to the shop."

Malfoy knew he needed her to keep her calm so she doesn't get carried away with her irrational behavior. "It's Saturday night, and I made sure your shop was completely closed up when I left with your belongings."

"You brought me here? What about your _precious_ family?" She replied childishly.

Hermione could feel his glare as he answered, "They left after the war, and I only hear from them through postcards. After all that has happened, they can get over you being here." A shiver escaped before the fire could warm her up and she hoped Malfoy wouldn't have noticed. She was determined not to feel weak around him, but honestly, she couldn't feel anything else except vulnerability. "Do you need anything else?" And as he asked, she knew Malfoy was always able to spot weakness.

"No…." She felt tears starting to erupt but she fought hard to hold them in. There was a plan, a script, and crying had not been rehearsed.

**Thank you for reading and a HUGE thanks to those who have been following this story! Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything, just the plot. I'm not that good!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Draco's POV**

Draco noticed her failed attempt of trying not to shake, but this time it was from tears and not from the cold. "Granger, just sit down." He gritted his teeth as he sought to sooth her. The puzzle continued to get even more complicated.

She rubbed her arms and then covered her face, giving into a sob. Her silent cry was not laced with sorrow, but of anger. Granger pulled herself together and wiped her tears off with her sleeve. Wanting to stay focused on his own motives of bringing her aid, he scrolled through a list of responses to bring her back to her senses. Old habits were very hard to break. "Now what?" He was bugged that he even had to ask her.

"I need to leave, I can't stay here any longer." Hermione began to pace, but then took a deep breath, as if she was trying to concentrate. "Why can't I Apparate?!" She swung herself around and glared at him with bloodshot eyes.

Draco stood cautiously and held his hands up assuredly, "I had to put stronger wards over the Manor so nothing else could come in… the spell works both ways." He needed to find something that would appeal to her better nature; his ideas were slim. "Just sit." Draco tried his hardest to not sound commanding, but nothing came out the way he wanted it to. Granger started to storm out of the room, but Draco stood in her way. "Where are you going?"

"If I can't Apparate then I will have to walk, like a _Muggle_!" She threw the insult harshly, and Draco squinted hard at her and bit his cheek before a nasty retort slipped out. "Get out of the way." When he didn't move, she pushed her shoulder into him and stomped out of the room.

Draco was afraid if she really did leave, he would lose the chance of her help. On one hand, that's what he wanted – for his blood to stop boiling. If she left that would cease, if she left he would be able to live his life normally, if she left… the unrealistic hope would be completely that – unrealistic. He fought the urge to gag when he called out to her, "Granger, wait…please…" It was almost a whisper, but he saw her pause. It worked. It was shameful to resort to pleading, begging. It was disgusting. Pride grew into regret when she didn't turn, he stormed to the couch and flung himself down on it. He was defeated and lost which quickly turned into worry. Emotions whizzed through his body all leaving him, hopeless. Thinking he rubbed his eyes too hard, he saw a figure to his side. Expecting Loxley, and ready to bark at him, Draco swallowed his words when he saw it was Granger. Maybe hope wasn't completely out of his reach.

Very displeased, she gritted her teeth, "What do you bloody want?" The amount of anger pent up inside of her was astonishing. His cutthroat insults he manifested during their school years had sparked anger, but never fury or malice. During school, he had wanted to push her buttons, wanted a reaction, but her skin had always been as hard as steel; that in itself was more than admirable to Draco. It was easier to get a fuss out of The-Boy-Who-Lived. But tonight he began to wonder what had caused her to be fragile and bitter, and oddly enough that didn't settle well with him.

Curiosity uncontrollably spewed out of him, "Why are you _so _angry with me? Besides the obvious, I'm at a loss at why you're so upset. You're calloused with a hint of bitterness." Her expression stayed the same, and he immediately regretted asking. He didn't care to be curious about her personal vendetta against him - at least that's what he kept telling himself. He only wanted one thing; to solve his own problem. "Don't worry about it, forget I asked. You probably shouldn't go back anyways." Draco was stiff on the couch and intensely watched the fire. As he leaned forward, he lost sight of her. He wanted everything to go back to the way things were, uncomplicated and empty. It had been a very long time when the Malfoy Manor was filled with anybody new, and the amount of emotion Granger held made him completely content if nothing new ever came again. However, a twinge of acceptance with her being at the Manor had brought some sort of appeal to Draco.

"Here, your food." Loxley appeared and sat a silver platter on a small table that was next to the tree. Draco caught the hesitation in Granger's step, but the aroma of the fresh roast won her over. As she began to chow down, Loxley spoke up, "Anything else, sir?" Draco knew his house elf was unhappy with serving Granger, so he gave him his freedom for the night. Granger turned away from her food and stared at Draco quizzically.

She swallowed, "You gave him 'freedom'?" She took a bite out of her bread, "You've gone soft." She rolled her eyes and turned back towards her food, not waiting for his response.

"And you've gone sour."

"Looks better on me than it did on you…" she swished her drink around in her mouth.

That infuriating comment unexpectedly set him off. He broke the stare from the fire and bored his gaze into the back of her half dried head of frizz. The moment he needed to have the last word, his mind went blank. He tried to conjure an insult, but it was far too late to reply now. From insults to questions, Draco's mind racked around ideas that could have caused her attitude change. Granger always found it easy to find the smallest amount of happiness in any type of darkness, which he was still envious about – what made now any different? Throughout the halls of Hogwarts, he instantly picked her out of a crowd because of her distinct laugh, which he thought to be somewhat repulsive, nauseating. Now, standing behind her, wanting rage to fuel him, he could only feel his stomach churn; he hadn't heard her laugh in over three years, maybe even more. He rejected such thoughts and let his stomach church with the mere thought of wanting to hear that repulsive, nauseating laugh again. Nonetheless, the thought lingered.

"Malfoy." He broke from the memory and realized she had started to turn towards him. Granger was calculating the words that were about to come out. It took time, but she finally spat them out. "Why did you kidnap me?"

He looked around to make sure Loxley wasn't around and truthfully answered, "I didn't. Loxley took it upon himself to do what I couldn't, or wouldn't." Draco pushed his hair back from his eyes as he turned back to stare at the crackling fire. "I didn't know he did that, nor did I instruct him to do so." Embarrassment wasn't always visible, but he hid all he could in front of Granger.

"What do you expect from a house elf? They always try to do what's best, but always get in the way…" Draco found Granger staring off into the next room. There was more to the story behind her comment, but he didn't want to show any interest in the subject. "If he doesn't want me here, why did he bring me here in the first place?" Her voice had eased up from harshness and was slowly transitioned into a softer tone.

Draco loosened up and leaned back into the couch, and forced himself to look at anything else in the room that wasn't her. "I told him I went to your shop and found nothing, and I guess he took that the wrong way and brought you here. He acted as if he knew you or something, so I guess he thought you'd be helpful." Maybe this was the way to convince her to help.

She stood quickly and started to pace, "How could I be helpful or useful if he didn't tell me what it was you were trying to do? He was so persistent and forceful, he was acting more than a common house elf."

"Well, he is more than a common house elf." There was a splash of edginess to his tone that caught Granger off guard. "I owe him."

Stopping and standing behind him and the couch, Draco wished she would leave the room so he didn't have to explain himself anymore. He needed to control the conversation, but she was too quick. "You owe him? He's your servant, and that's all they should be, right? No connections, no ties, no anything." He couldn't help his neck from whipping around to gawk at the one who wanted to save all of the house elves during the final battle at Hogwarts. When he saw her stand causal but completely poignant, he flipped back around and couldn't help but snicker. She rushed over in front of him and gasped. "What? Why are you laughing at me?" Draco caused her cheeks to burn red.

"I mean, I would have _never_ thought I would hear the 'great Hermione Granger' say such things. Times have changed haven't they?" Even though he completely agreed with what he said, he couldn't help but feel sad for her. "Loxley is only acting the way you acted towards him, and trust me… he holds grudges." Draco stood and stretched annoyingly close to Granger, knowing it would irritate her. "Listen, I'm tired because unlike you, I didn't get to sleep all day," she squinted and her cheeks stayed cherry red from anger, "so I am going up for the night. Tomorrow we can discuss what you should do next. Just don't do anything rash or stupid, you tend to do that when you get angry." He was starting to find the joy in picking on her again. Before she could fully register what he said, he slipped out of her reach too quickly for her to harm him again.

**Hermione's POV**

Hermione grumbled and fell onto the couch when she lost sight of Malfoy going up the stairs. Unanswered questions still rattled her mind, and oddly enough she felt strange when she thought about going back to her flat. It had just been broken into and she couldn't help but think that she was safer, here, in the Malfoy Manor than she would be in her own home. All she had done after the war had been completely low-key. As she pondered the possibilities of who could have broken into her place, she began to rub her collar bone. A slow falling tear had uncontrollably fallen down her cheek when she realized she had not been wearing her necklace.

The chain had thin gold links that held a small infinity loop and two petite ruby jewels on both sides of the loop. A faint, but happy memory flooded her thoughts when she thought of the time when Ron presented the necklace to her as an early Christmas gift. Happy to receive it, she was upset with herself for not having anything for him in return. His voice was still very clear in her mind when she remembered him comforting her and not to worry. Hermione was told that it was the first part of a gift and he had the second gift coming to her on Christmas day.

Being surrounded by Christmas decorations had sparked rich and painful memories even though she forced herself not to let it consume her, again. The Christmas after the accident - the year of Ron's funeral - the Burrow was trying their best to celebrate the holiday as much as they could. Losing a son in the war took a toll on the Weasley family, and then unexpectedly losing another shortly after almost tore them apart. Hermione joined their Christmas holiday in hopes of healing, but it was quite the opposite. Fake smiles and short stories filled the living room, but it clearly strained everyone more than expected. Shortly after the new year, the Weasley's decided to make major changes. This year was the first Christmas she was going to be completely alone, and the first Christmas she decided to not celebrate – until she got dragged into the worst place in the country where she couldn't be alone and had to celebrate it.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to retire to her room even though she was wide awake. Being secluded in her room and away from 'Christmas' was what she needed to "_not be rash"_ according to Malfoy. Before she reached her room, Hermione heard rustling and running water from the room opposite of hers. There was a simple black door that had an inscription of a 'D' on it. Her curiosity climbed and she put her ear to the door trying to figure out what the noise could be. The running water was so sporadic and didn't have any type of rhythm to it, but before she could figure it out, the noise stopped.

"What kind of spell is he working on?" She tried to amuse herself thinking of first year charms he hadn't mastered yet, but being too concerned with trying to degrade him, she didn't hear footsteps getting closer to the door.

Hermione lost her footing when the door flew open, causing her to fall right on top of Malfoy. She pulled back as fast as she could but when she realized he was covered in a light mist of hot water and only had sweatpants on, she fumbled even more. Malfoy tried to help her catch her footing, but she kept trying to be independent and ignored his helpful hands. She finally got to her feet and stood up straight, trying to find words – any words. When Malfoy started to chuckle and force eye contact with her, she almost fell again in pure humiliation.

"Well, Granger," He leaned against the door frame with arms crossed, "Why are you always trying to spy on me?" Expecting an insult, she saw in his expression when it came out completely the opposite. His eyes glanced to her loose strands of curls looking as if he was trying to fight an urge.

Distracted and unsure of the situation, Hermione had taken a rather long moment to try and collect words and form a coherent sentence. Hermione couldn't help but notice the very defined figure Malfoy had kept from his Quidditch years. She always pictured him frail and weak, but the definition she fell on screamed a difference. Hermione straightened up her shirt and pulled her hair back, "I was trying to…" a lie wasn't coming up, "find you…"

"You found me," his curled smile didn't help Hermione. Could his smile be less charming and more devilish?

"No, I mean…" Embarrassment radiated heat from her core throughout her entire body; that's when she thought of the fire, "the fire is still lit… I didn't want it to stay lit," she continued, being fidgety, "overnight." She turned on her heel and hurried across the hall before he could read through the lie - if he hadn't already. She forcefully closed the door behind her and pushed her back to it. She whispered to herself harshly, "Why must I always let curiosity win?" She jumped when there was a soft knock at the door. She cleared her throat, "Yes?"

"I have something for you." Hermione could still feel the wetness on her that was transferred from Malfoy's body. She quickly tried to rub dry when she cracked the door open and only used half of her body to look out into the hallway. Malfoy stood, now wearing a shirt, holding something. "Here." He raised up his blanket towards the open crack. She looked down and saw the complete tattoo of the Death Mark, and flashes of it appearing in the night sky took hold of her memory. "Do you not want it?"

Hermione blinked back towards the blanket, "Oh, yes…please." She felt as if she couldn't deny it after what just happened. She felt him push the door wider and fully push the blanket through, but when Hermione grabbed it to bring it to her possession, he didn't let go. "Uh, thank you?" He snapped back from his daze and released the blanket.

Malfoy rubbed his face and then the back of his head. "Yeah… sure." The awkwardness started to settle between them.

**Draco's POV**

Draco stood as stiff as a board after Granger had closed the door. He heard her soft footsteps grow weaker as she moved away from the door and him. He face palmed in foolishness, "Stupid!" he cursed under his breath as he went back to his room. He flung the door closed behind him and started to pace the length of his room, yelling at himself, "What an idiot! It's Granger! Nobody Granger! What is wrong with me? I was only trying to get under her skin, nothing more." He stomped to his bed and fell hard on his back. "_I hesitated on giving her the blanket, as if I wanted to say something to her! What do I need to say? Goodnight?" _Then he realized that was exactly what he wanted to say to her. That was something he has wanted to say to her for a very long time. "Get over it, Malfoy!"

He fought with himself for half the night. In between thoughts, he filled his mind with practicing spells or straightening up his bedroom with said spells. Sleep was not on his mind, and for the first time in a long time, it wasn't because of a Dementor.

A cry from across the hall had hurried him over without any hesitation. Draco flung Hermione's door wide open and casted light to stand in all corners of the room to find the cause of all the ruckus. The unexplained rustling and cries came from a sleeping Granger who was tossing and turning while whimpering as if she was in pain. "Please… no, I don't know… please!" He rushed to her side and saw she was drenched in sweat. Draco wasn't sure how to wake her, but then immediately grabbed her shoulders and started to shake her out of it. "No! Stop!" Another cry pierced through Draco's chest.

"Eh! Wake up, Granger! You're having a –," a punch to the nose stopped him from finishing his sentence. Granger flung forward wide awake panting for breath. "Ah, man!" He stumbled back and stood by the bed holding his nose up.

She searched and grabbed her wand and flicked it at Draco's nose which immediately stopped bleeding and went back into place. "Malfoy! What? What are you doing?" Her voice trembled. "She's here, isn't she?" Granger began to rustle in the sheets and pushed herself back towards the headboard pulling the blankets to her face.

Wiggling his nose and wiping the sticky blood off of his face with his sleeve, he sat at her feet trying to calm her down, "Granger, no one else is here. You were having a nightmare." He was trying to be comforting, but he wasn't sure how. He reached for her, but pulled back when she flinched at his arm. He wasn't sure why he kept wanting to touch her.

"No! Your death mark moved and flashed up into the sky, calling out to her. She came," Hermione pointed towards the window, "and then she carved…" she again tried to catch her breath and pulled her arm out from under the covers, "she carved this into my arm again, and again…" The word 'mudblood' was just as it had been healed and scarred for the past three years. "It was so real, it was a new one… I thought I was over them…" She pulled her legs up and buried her face between her knees which were now held by her arms.

Draco sat, stunned. It was the first time he had fully seen the marking on her arm since it happened. He turned his head in shame, and tried to make light out of it. "Well, the only real thing that did happen was you punching me in the face. It was a lot better than the punch from our third year." There was silence for only a moment, and then he jerked his head up when he heard her chuckle. He bit his lip when a smile of happiness tried to grow across his face when he heard her. "Have you been practicing?"

"I did punch you, didn't I? I disliked you very much." Draco couldn't contain the tug at his lips to smile, as she began to lighten up.

"Who _didn't _want to punch me?" he rubbed his nose feeling the phantom pain from her punch.

Granger leaned her head back on the headboard, "Don't get me wrong, I still dislike you." He caught the blush she was trying to hide. Seriousness was then pushed out towards Draco, "Sorry I woke you because of a silly dream…" She wiped her forehead that was now caked with dried sweat. "This house and your," he caught her taking a quick glance at his marked arm, "mark gives me terrible memories."

Draco picked up his wand and pointed it at his mark, and then hesitated. He was conflicted, but he wanted her help later on and he needed her trust to stay. The only way this would work is if he showed Granger who he wished he wasn't forced to be. Without asking, he used a reveal charm where his mark rested on his arm. Granger's stare almost burned holes into his arm along with the spell. A red spray lightly puffed out of his wand and wisped over the mark revealing many scars that had been slashed all over it. Some scars went deeper than others and some looked freshly made whereas some looked aged.

When Granger spoke, he couldn't bear to make eye contact, "Oh, Malfoy. How?" She stopped, trying to search for the right question. "Why?" Draco heard the confusion in her voice, and concern came out clearer than shame. "Times have changed haven't they?" They sat there in silence for a couple of moments. Strangely enough it wasn't awkwardness that filled the empty air, but comfort; neither one of them acknowledged it.

Draco rose from the bed and flicked his wand at his arm in the opposite direction from before. The scars disappeared as Draco sighed. He saw Granger analyzing what to say as he started to leave. "Malfoy, uh…" He turned towards her, holding the door open, waiting for her soft voice to soothe him, even a little bit, "sorry to wake you…" Draco saw how she scrunched her face fighting what she really wanted to say.

Before he completely closed the door, he stuck his head through the opening, and gave a tiny smirk, "It's ok, Granger, I still dislike you too." He closed the door before the pillow she threw hit him in the face.

Getting back to his room, he thought he would be able to sleep, but instead he found himself waking up to any noise making sure it wasn't Granger having another nightmare. His thoughts forced him to stay awake. "_Having company isn't half bad, but Granger? She is definitely the last person I would have ever dreamt of having here. I wanted her chuckle to irritate me, but it… didn't. I remember it being more annoying, or at least too perfect." _The wind howling outside didn't faze Draco's mind. "_But this house, my very existence makes her uneasy…that isn't fair to her. Maybe I should let her choose where to stay; where she would feel more comfortable. But she might not come back; do I really need her?" _Thoughts see-sawed in his mind as he started to doze off.

**Once again, thank you so much for following along and being a part of this story! Y'all are great.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything, just the plot. I'm not that good!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Draco's POV**

The next morning found itself more challenging than it should have been. Draco was trying to avoid Granger because he didn't want to give her a choice, and if he were to give any hint to Loxley that he was debating on this, Loxley would put it on himself to kick her out or say something to really offend her. Draco tried not to care about how Loxley treated her, but for some reason he wanted them to get along.

It took half the morning fighting with himself for him to agree that staying cooped up in his room was not going to help anything. Now standing in front of his wall length bathroom mirror, he tried to convince himself he could roam around freely in the Manor. More unwelcome thoughts slipped through his mind as he tried to focus on getting cleaned up and it was Granger's taunting, but attractive chuckle that made its way too easily to the front of his mind. Every time he heard even an inkling of her laugh or voice he splashed cold water over his face trying to ignore it. When he pulled back up to face the mirror, Loxley stood right behind him making him jump. "Blimey, Loxley! Stop!"

Loxley began to huff, "Now, sir, she is being rather difficult and I can't take it any longer. She is being completely irrational and stubborn." He stood tall with his nose in the air.

Draco dried his face off and turned towards his bedroom, "Loxley, do you think she will be anything else? Where is she?" Loxley snapped his fingers and both of them disappeared from his bathroom, and appeared in front of Granger in the living room that held the Christmas decorations.

"Loxley, I didn't mean now!" Draco hadn't changed out of his sweatpants yet and the button shirt he had over him was completely unbuttoned leaving his defined bare chest visible to Granger. Loxley did not seem to care or worry about such things. Draco tried to flatten his hair down and button up his shirt as quickly as he could, making it more obvious than it was to start with.

Granger jumped back and Draco noticed her cheeks were pink again when she noticed his attire, or lack thereof. Granger regained her composure and her pink cheeks were flushed away as she pulled her stare from Draco. Her voice steady, "Your house elf was not answering any of my questions. I feel like he should at least tell me why he thinks he knows me." She gripped her hips tightly with her hands and tapped her foot in frustration and impaitence. Her temper tantrum that she was trying so hard to hold control was being held in just as well as Draco's attractiveness to it. He brushed it off when she raised her voice, "Tell me now!"

Loxley was very composed, "He would be repulsed if he heard how you were acting. There were many great things he raved about, and he sometimes talked about you more than Mr. Potter himself!" Both Draco and Granger stood still and stared at Loxley. "Sir, do you see what I mean?"

Draco's eyes grew just as much as the animosity between Loxley and Granger. Granger whipped her head toward Draco and threw daggers with her looks, "Uh, now wait…" She kept her forceful stare on him and it dug deep into his soul. Loxley slowly started to realize he was losing the fight and anger grew with both of the humans. "Loxley, it might be best if you simply explained."

He took a deep breath in, knowing he had to obey his master, with very gritted teeth he barely said it audibly, "My poor late cousin… Dobby." As soon as he spat out Dobby's name, Loxley vanished.

Draco instantly understood how devastating that was for Loxley. Knowing it would be too hard for Loxley to be traced down, Draco decided to stay in front of Hermione. The awkward silence grew too uncomfortable and they both knew something needed to be said. Thinking too much, Draco was beaten again at responding.

Granger spoke slowly, "His… cousin, is Dobby?" When her eyes hit the floor, they did not come back up until Draco found words to respond with.

He hesitated and chose not to step forward, "Yes, but I didn't know the rest."

She cocked her head, keeping her stare low, "Is that what you owe?" Draco heard the sadness in her question.

"Yes." He couldn't lie to her. "Will you wait here for a moment? Let me finish getting dressed and I will take you to your flat." When she nodded, he hurried away and left Granger with her thoughts.

**Hermione's POV**

Hermione tried to breath slowly. "Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale." She repeated this for a couple of minutes and then stopped when she heard Malfoy rushing down the stairs. "_Should I tell him?"_ She chose not to confide in Malfoy when he entered the room now in dark jeans and had his thick black leather jacket on. The jacket contrasted well with his blond hair making it look whiter than usual and his eyes a lighter grey. In that moment, Hermione realized there was never a time where she had actually _looked_ at him. And in doing so, she was slightly shocked to have seen him so bold and striking. She was pulled from her thoughts when he spoke.

"It might be too big for you, but it's better than freezing from the possible snow," Malfoy handed Hermione a jacket, and it was softer and lighter than what he had on.

Hermione took it with hesitation, and told herself freezing to death because of pride would be completely stupid on her part. She sighed and gritted her teeth as she put it on. The scent of cinnamon had wrapped around her and rushed into her nostrils - immediately reminding her of how he smelt when she fell on him the night before. She could feel her cheeks getting hot from the memory and rushed out of the room hoping he wouldn't catch wind.

"_It's all from a false feeling anyways - there's nothing to ponder on…"_

It made her very uncomfortable wearing another man's jacket, but with a second sigh she forced herself to think that none of this was a betrayal towards Ron; or at least that's what she was told to tell herself. The betrayal was more with Malfoy as a whole and less with the jacket she had to wear and a manly scent she kept getting whiffs of. Hermione couldn't come around to find a way to forgive Malfoy for what happened to Ron, but she knew thinking about it was at least a start. She pushed past her sorrow and tried to get home, whatever it took.

She followed Malfoy outside and waited as they stood in the large botanical garden in front of the Malfoy Manor. Hermione tried to dissect what was going on in Malfoy's mind as he took in the view of the whole Manor, but for the first time, she was at a loss. The chilled wind brushed his hair out from his troubling eyes and he seemed incredibly tense. It was obvious to her that he was on the brink of releasing whatever it was he was holding onto inside, but she wasn't sure how to approach the subject.

Her gaping stare broke from his face when his hand grabbed hers; and shockingly enough it wasn't as repulsive as she thought it would have been. "_It's only because I miss Ron, and my emotions are crazy." _She tried to push any far-fetched reason into her thoughts, and as she started to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

Malfoy turned towards her, "Don't you want to go?" She didn't hear the excitement in his voice that she had hoped for. Wasn't he holding his breath to get rid of her? When she nodded with approval, she kept her hand in his as they Apparated into Diagon Alley.

The Alley was filled with busy stores and crowded streets, and everyone around them seemed to be in a hurry. It was Christmas break for students and all the shops were holding some sort of pre-holiday sale hoping to gain more income and business. Hermione was pulled through the crowd by Malfoy as they weaved back and forth trying to get to their destination. When they reached the shop before Hermione's, she stopped in her tracks yanking Malfoy to a halt. She looked down and let her hand go when she realized they were still holding them together, and then pointed towards the shop.

"Malfoy, the Ministry is at the shop!" Knowing Malfoy had recently been accused and then stated innocent by law, Hermione knew it didn't mean he was safe from any misconduct by Aurors– simply because of who he was.

Malfoy shook his head in disapproval and stepped to the side of the crowd. "Go, do what you need, but meet me in the little alleyway between the sweet shop and Olivander's in a little bit," he was annoyed but knew it was for the best. Hermione was honestly stunned by how none of that had turned into an argument.

Hermione brushed it off and shoved through the rest of the crowd and went up to a young Auror standing in front of her shop and identified herself. He reluctantly gave her permission to freely pass into the shop. There was tape stretched across the front of the building blocking any passengers from strolling into her own crime scene, but no one seemed to be bothered by her presence. As she slowly meandered the cleaned up side of her shop, she bent down to put a book back on the shelf, but was ordered not to touch anything else.

"Oi! Ma'am, stop touching the evidence of the crime scene!" The voice was familiar and easily recognizable. She stood back up and turned on a dime with a wide smile.

"Neville!" She ran to him with open arms. "Look at you!" He gladly greeted his old friend with a hug. He was just as lengthy as she had last seen him a year and a half ago. "It's great to see you, but definitely not under these circumstances." When she pulled back from him, she was amazed that he was now Head of the Auror Department for the Ministry of Magic.

His lips went flat, "Yes, Hermione, we need to stop meeting on such somber occasions." He then realized what he said and apologized profusely. "Oh, sorry Hermione, I mean, we need to see each other more often outside of these circumstances. Golly." He rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment.

She playfully punched his shoulder, "Oh, I know what you mean! But since we are here," she still wanted to change the subject, "how did you know to come out here?"

"Someone called it in and gave a description of a blond slender man lurking around late at night and when we came to check it out, we saw your place ransacked and you missing. We were going to get more concerned about you missing tomorrow morning," Neville's structure stiffened up when he talked about his profession.

Hermione thought this description would be too close to Malfoy and it fit the story, but she couldn't tell anyone this, especially Neville. He was the one who accused Malfoy about a year ago, and Neville has felt Malfoy's charge was corrupted and wrongly appointed. Not knowing the complete details in the strain of their relationship, she still knew Neville would never understand the truth unless hard facts stared at him in the face, but even then, he might go blind with rage over Malfoy.

"What else have you come across?" Hermione wanted to dig deeper on if they had any more leads on suspects.

"Nothing else so far. Once we search deeper into what's happened here, we can really narrow it down. But don't worry! We will catch this guy one way or another." As Neville finished explaining his plan, Hermione was covered in worry. "Oh, dear, I didn't mean to frighten you, I just wanted you to be aware of what will happen. We are going to start digging tomorrow after the crowds die down, and less interruption can occur."

Hermione shrugged, "Oh no! I am fine, promise. The break in just startled me, but knowing there is great help on my side will keep me at ease!" Neville smiled with confidence.

She tried to leave so she wouldn't get stuck with any more cases of worry but Neville called out to her. "Do you need a place to stay? I know Harry and Ginny have left, but I am sure I can find something suitable for you!"

Panic brewed inside of her, "Yes, I will contact someone, I grew close to a friend who frequently comes into the shop and I can ask them." She smiled a wide and fake smile, "Thank you, though! I need to go now." Hermione hurried off before she was cornered by Neville's questions again.

It was only a short amount of time that she spent at her shop, and Hermione wished hard that Malfoy was ready to go. She passed a couple of alleyways headed towards the sweet shop, but she then stopped as she saw something in the corner of her eye. The alley walls she was standing in front of were covered in wanted posters. She scanned what she could see and recognized the moving witches and wizards among these posters were all former followers of Voldemort; Hermione recognized some being Death Eaters and a few of them she didn't recognize at all. As she began to step closer toward a wanted poster that had two people in its picture, something crawled up her spine.

Hermione turned from the alley opening and took a few steps into the crowd. Trying to blend in, she felt as if she was being followed and watched. After strolling through the crowds and then throughout a couple of stores –still with no sign of Malfoy – she was able to pick out the two men that constantly stayed far enough away to not cause panic. They were wearing large brown robes that screamed the Ministry."_Would Neville really send people after me?" _Hermione continued to stop in random stores and buy a couple of light weight items, to convince her followers she had legitimate goals while traveling throughout Diagon Alley. There were a couple of times where she would lose them, but then out of nowhere she would notice them right behind her. Then the light flashed on in her head as bright as the Lumos spell as soon as she saw a Wizarding & Muggle clothing shop and crossed the street to enter it.

Hermione grabbed a couple pairs of jeans, a few shirts and a jean jacket. Not wanting to admit it, but if she were to stay at the cold Manor, she needed the correct attire (might as well kill two birds with one stone.) She knew the more clothes she put in her arms, the more time she could stall in the changing departments. As she searched the clothes racks, she knew her plan worked when the two men didn't step foot into the store. However, she could see them casually pass the window with a crowd of people - trying to stay close.

Jumping into a changing stall and locking the door, she then started to hear how hard her heart had been pounding. She was nervous about how to get out of Diagon Alley without being traced back to the Malfoy Manor. There was also an inevitable feeling of worry for Malfoy, himself, if Hermione would be spotted with him. No matter how much evil had tainted his name, from what she heard, he was supposedly innocent in the most recent account, but the Ministry of Magic doesn't seem to forgive and forget that easily anymore, especially towards a Malfoy.

Could _she _forgive and forget certain events that dealt with him? Hermione had noticed the amount of changes Malfoy had made, but something was still holding her back from completely giving into the forgiveness she thought was possible.

With new clothes on her back, she was able to brush off her concern for him, and started writing a letter with a secret divination code embedded in it. As she finished and sealed it, she hoped Malfoy paid close enough attention in the wacko Trelawny's class to understand what a coded message would look like.

As she blew it away with a spell, she had it flutter out with the outgoing mail that were also flying on their own. The two followers paid no attention to any of the papers. She smiled wide at her accomplishments, and exited the stall with new clothes, and then zapped her old clothes back to the Manor. Hermione let her hair down and clipped it back as she peered around the corner of the changing room and watched the two men attempt to blend into the crowds outside, she noticed they were formulating a pattern leaving every fourth group unchecked. Hermione stepped outside with another witch that began to rave about her new Muggle pants that had front pockets. They continued to walk and Hermione led the way, joining the crowd that didn't have a follower in it. She checked over her shoulder and noticed the coast was clear. She bid farewell to the witch and Hermione began to jump through the hordes of witches and wizards. As she weaved in and out of the streets of Diagon Alley, she successfully lost the two very obvious Ministry workers.

Turning to find the sweet shop and Olivander's, she was stopped when she felt a pair of hands take a hold of her waist. Freezing with fear, then wonder, she stood still. She only thought for an instant that it possibly could be one of the Ministry workers, but disregarded that notion when she somehow noticed the grip was familiar and shockingly comforting. As the pair of hands adjusted around her waist, she started to melt when she heard Malfoy's voice from behind her.

As he whispered in her ear, she uncontrollably released the tension of fear and eased into his arms, almost resting the back of her head on his shoulder. "Ready?" She went to grab a hold of his wrists, but misjudged her placement and instead grabbed a hold of his hands. Hermione widened her eyes and held her breath when she felt his thumb slightly rub her own. Before she could analyze what actually happened, they had Apparated when three other people had done the same, creating the perfect escape.

In a flash and after a couple of twists of reality, Hermione stood in a familiar dungeon room with Malfoy still holding onto her. Feeling the warmth from his breath on her neck and tender touch on her waist, she instantly thought of Ron. In a hurry she peeled herself away from Malfoy and scanned the room for an exit of any type. It was just as she remembered, closed in. Her breaths became shorter and panic started to settle.

Hermione tried to justify her actions and feelings by exclaiming, "They were following me. I tried really hard to shake them off. Why are there no windows or doors down here? How did you live like this all of your years at Hogwarts? Man, it's hot in here right?" Hermione paced in zigzag paths trying to get her bearings. Trying not to worry about everything at once, it came up unwillingly, "Wait, what if they saw us?" She was thinking completely of Ron at the moment, "They will find us here, and I can't let that happen. I can't do that to him, he doesn't deserve it, any of it." As an edge of a table stopped her from going any further, Malfoy walked to the other side of it, standing in front of her, but she couldn't bear to look at him.

She continued babbling, "How did you find me and why did you bring me here? How were you able to Apparate here? He can trace us down here…if they or he knows the spell. I mean _they_, if _they _know the spell." Her mouth was now dry, but she was trying to control herself and get back to reality. Malfoy stood his ground in front of her, adjusting his posture to make her make eye contact with him. "They know about this place - he does." Hermione didn't try to hide her emotions as she leaned her weight onto her curled knuckles that forcefully found connection with the top of the wooden table.

Hermione somehow felt that Malfoy knew exactly who she was referring to, even if she was trying to fight it. It struck a nerve with her once he opened his arrogant mouth to speak, "Let it out, Granger. I understood your note, I shockingly understand you now."

There was a wash of clarity that she was able to feel, but it was only for an instant. He wanted to know her thoughts, her worries; he wanted to push her overboard for some reason it was as if he wanted to care for her. But then, the instant was gone and that nerve that was struck before had been refueled; Draco Malfoy was about to witness Hermione Granger's reaction to being thrown overboard.

There was silence and then she lifted her head to meet his eyes. No tears were being held back, even though she looked miserable enough to sob. Her lips flattened, "You killed him…" She continued after taking a deep breath. "He was here. A silly and stupid mutual friend of you guys had convinced him to come and hang out with his school mates and go to your Christmas party the year after the war. You wanted it to be here because you wanted to lie and show everyone how fake you were... I mean _are_." She began to mock him, "Oh, I'm Draco Malfoy and I was a Death Eater, but now I am good. Let's party." She continued in her normal angry tone, "I never got the second gift he promised me because they couldn't find it in the bottom of the lake he drowned in because he just had to drive the stupid car that night! If you hadn't thrown a party, he wouldn't have left that party, and he wouldn't have drowned!" After staring at Malfoy -who stood with arms crossed and completely silent - Hermione had finished with a full yell. "Come on then! Throw an insult, or are you too much of a coward?! You didn't even have the courage to show up to his funeral!"

Hermione punched the table as hard as she could and instantly had a shock of pain shoot up her arm, but she tried not to wince when she released the pressure of her knuckles off of the table. Malfoy clearly saw the pain she had caused herself and whispered a phrase, "Frenzy Potions." The pieces of stone that looked obviously different from the rest - layered the wall behind Malfoy - started to shift and create an opening. "I'm sorry this has happened to you, Granger." Hermione felt the sympathetic tone, but ignored all the good components it held and took it as a grain of salt. She rushed out of the room breathing a lot easier when she reached a small and quaint study that had a window to the outside.

The new room was a lot smaller compared to the rest of the Manor and it looked homier, well used. The excitement of anger and grief rolled out of her when she was able to collect her thoughts by exploring the bookshelf on the opposite wall from the secret dungeon entrance. Little by little, flashes of angry segments came back to mind when she yelled at Malfoy, and the more they flashed the more she regretted how her anger controlled her. She was expecting, hoping rather, Malfoy would be behind her in moments, but he never showed. The stone door closed, blocking her off from the path of reconciliation.

She tried to lift her spirits by examining everything in the room and keeping her mind occupied with other thoughts. There were two shelves in the room and only one large leather seat in between them, sitting in the corner. The large wooden shelves stood as tall as the ceiling and carried more than just books. Peculiar artifacts and bottles were arranged in no particular order, and Hermione felt the need to organize everything. Deciding to let her organizational temperament drive her, she placed similar items together and then continued to organize each individual item within their groups by size and then by color. She recognized most of the potions and artifacts, but there were some that she had never come across before. Next she worked on the books, and it didn't take long for them to be organized by genre and then by thickness because there were so few of them. She noticed the majority of these books were never available to her at Hogwarts, and she remembered always wanting to read them but never wanted to explain why she needed a note to check out '_The Creation of Dark Matter'_ from the restricted section. When Hermione had them in her grip, she found herself wanting to desperately find the _interest _in the knowledge rather than the _knowledge _itself. When she traced the book's spine with her fingertips, all she could feel was apathy.

Shoved in between the pages of the last book she picked up, Hermione pulled out a wrinkled recent picture of Malfoy and his house elf, Loxley, standing in front of the Manor on a sunny day. Both standing there casually, Hermione noticed Malfoy was oddly trying to position himself as an equal next to his servant rather than a master. Keeping the picture in her hand, she put the book back on the shelf and went to sit on the window sill contemplating on how to clean her slate with Malfoy.

Chilled air had seeped through the window's lining and warned Hermione of the drastic temperature drop. Dark clouds started to fill the sky teasing her with the hope of a light snow further into the day. She absentmindedly rubbed the picture with her thumb as she leaned against the window. When the cold invaded her mind, it helped her thoughts break through the pounding headache she couldn't shake. "_I can't go back, and Neville is expecting me to find a suitable place to stay until the investigation is finished." _She shot up when she remembered Neville and the rest of the Aurors will be sweeping through her place in search of any evidence tomorrow morning. No matter how many clues the real culprit left, as soon as Neville found anything that led him to Malfoy, Hermione knew he would only focus on the wrong suspect. "_After everything I said to him, everything I have bottled up for_ _the last couple of years… "_ She felt her stomach churn when she thought of what had to be done. Hermione Granger had to apologize to Draco Malfoy.

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything, just the plot. I'm not that good!**

**Thank you all for the follows and staying with the story! I really hope you're enjoying it. This chapter is one of my favorites! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Draco's POV**

In the dungeon, Draco was planted where he stood as he tried to think straight. He had heard there was an accident after the party, but he thought they were all rumors so he paid no mind to them. The next year after the party was when he started to disconnect with everyone because of his false accusations by the Ministry. He felt the strain of stress and guilt come over him when he repeated Granger's words in his head. "How can I be a coward for not attending his funeral? I didn't even know there was one." Draco regained movement and started to fiddle with random objects that were scattered across the tabletop.

Words spewed out of him like a rushing river, "She's upset, and rightly so. There have been many wrong things I have done, or let happen, and why shouldn't she be angry with me." The more he cleaned up, the more he knew Granger was right. Acknowledging the twinge of humility overcoming his pride, he knew he had to find her and try to keep his slate from filling anymore than it already was.

Reaching for the wall that hid the exit, he hesitated before pushing it open. He rested his hand on the cold stone and it created a chill that traveled from his fingertips up his arm and then goosebumps popped up over his neck and down his spine. As he stared at his hand, he started to reminisce on how Granger's warmth filled him in Diagon Alley. When he had easily picked her out from the crowd, he couldn't have resisted the temptation of getting close to her. The crowds were already jamming people together, and he was able to rationalize the advantage he had – it was the only way to approach her without causing alarm to others, or her. The concern of how she would react did hinder Draco - but only for a few moments. When he saw her starting to turn, he immediately reached out to her before his chance was gone. And to his liking, she had eased into his grasp, and almost rested in his arms almost without any thought. if only he had been brave enough to do such things years ago. Maybe things would've been different now.

A smile escaped his tightly knitted face and Draco couldn't deny the feeling; no matter how much he wanted to. He opened the doorway and casually strolled up the stairs searching for the correct phrases. He needed to be well-aware of the situation and more than anything, he needed there to be reconciliation.

As soon as he entered the small room on the base level, he stood acting as if he was a child being caught taking a cookie from the cookie jar. The thoughts in Draco's mind were so loud that it caused him to worry that Granger could actually hear them. Granger sat against the window, and when she noticed that he had entered, she jumped and quickly shoved something in her pocket.

"Oh, Granger... you didn't make it far," disappointment settled when he realized he never formulated a plan.

Sitting halfway on the window sill, she too stood as if she was caught doing something wrong. It was easier for her to be defensive, "Don't sound too disappointed. I was about to leave." Draco saw the hurry in her next step.

Before she walked completely out of the room, his mind raced with what to say, and before he could lock it away, the most uncomfortable words came out. "Wait! I'm sorry, truly." His words were obviously unwanted but completely sincere. As she stood there with her back towards him, Draco fought the urge to reach out for her like he did in Diagon Alley. His eyes grew in size, not sure of what to trust his mind to act upon.

She tightened her jacket around her and then crossed her arms, but it wasn't out of anger. It was almost a whisper when she spoke, "I was supposed to be the one to tell you that." She jumped and quickly turned when she heard the blocks from the wall close up behind Draco. No matter how hard she tried, Draco saw she had more to say and he couldn't help the feeling of wanting to hear her voice again, no matter the tone.

He inched towards her, "Why would you apologize… to me? No one should be apologetic towards me." His body fighting every instinct and morals he had been taught, he stepped another inch, he wanted to see her reaction to his presence, his closeness. "I have done nothing but wrong and evil, and you're…" he swallowed in defeat, "…right." What he was feeling had completely thrown him in uncharted waters; but that had been the intrigue. "_Apparently it hadn't been a silly crush…" _

Granger couldn't hide the twitch of a smile from her soft pink lips when she heard him confess she was right. "You should know… I'm always right." Even though her tone was even, her expression was full of emotion. Draco wanted to explore the emotion to get a clearer reading, but hesitated when he thought of Weasley and who she was. "_That's exactly why I have to get a hold of this…"_

However, the curiosity definitely outweighed all of the petty excuses on why he felt the need to keep a distance. He gave in a little bit more and tried to poke more truth out of her. Whatever the feeling was that he _didn't _want in Diagon Alley, he still couldn't help but wonder if she had felt the same. Regardless of any thought of Weasley. "Granger?" She pivoted toward the bookshelf positioned in front of him. Draco took her closeness as an invitation to keep going, "Again, I'm sorry," he didn't have to swallow a rock this time, and it was pleasing, "if I made you feel…" he took a larger step towards her when he finished, "uncomfortable, at _any _time."

The overbearing amount of shame that was heavy on his chest made it feel nearly impossible to convey. He knew he was in the wrong throughout the years, and it seemed to be too much for him to get it out in the strange moment between them. Nonetheless, he knew starting somewhere would help. "Especially today."

At this, she began to rub her hands together and furrow her brows, hesitating. Hermione held her gaze to the floor and started to rub the forearm that had been scarred many years ago. Draco's heart began to sink.

"Oh, yeah…thank you, for being discrete." It was forced and Draco didn't dare step any closer. One more step and Draco would have been at arm's length with whom he desperately wanted to embrace, but then bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood when he thought of such things. Granger hurriedly shot her face up and locked eyes with him, "I mean, wait…" the turning wheels in her head were too visible to ignore, and her cheeks were now cherry red. "Um, you haven't done _everything_ wrong…" she chose her next words carefully, "you helped me when you didn't have to, or wanted to do." Granger was right again, he didn't want to in the beginning, "_and I still don't want to… I just want something from you, nothing more."_ Draco wrestled with his mind. "That's why we need to go back to the shop."

Stunned and confused, Draco let his breath go enough to ask, "What do you mean?" There was a curl that freed itself from her clip that he desperately wanted to push back but kept his distance. "_There is nothing for me if I keep letting urges like this slip. Reconciliation is all that can happen."_ He broke free from his mind when she answered him, full of worry.

"Someone saw you outside of my shop, and called it in. When the Aurors found the place had been broken into, they wanted to blame the man the witness saw."

Draco didn't see the severity of this issue, but was still cautious, "But I didn't do it and you can testify to that." She dropped her head, "Granger? What is it? Tell me the rest of it." Draco had gone back to his normal rough tone.

She leaned back up to look at Draco and fastened her hair into a loose, low ponytail. "Just trust me on this, and go back with me later tonight so we can fix something," Granger's tone was stronger and more demanding making Draco's illusionary feelings for her resurface.

He couldn't fight with her, "Fine…" he turned his head away, "Just let me know when." Crossing his arms across his chest, he walked out of the room and left Granger behind.

Stomping across the Manor, he was boiling in frustration over his unwelcome feelings for Granger, Draco tried as hard as he could to not only push them down, but to throw them out. When he pictured her, attempting to find anything repulsive, everything he saw was too attractive: her thin and cute nose when she pointed it high in the air, her fitting, small but strong stature when she held it confidently, and even her sometimes high pitched voice when she gets flustered seemed nauseating adorable. Everything he tried to do to convince himself only went back to the way she made him feel, and it was everything _but _revolting. "_I might have thought these things when I was a teenager, but who wouldn't? Why is this happening, now - I know better!? It's only been a couple of days and she is a wreck! A bloody mess that had completely fallen apart!"_

He was in his room pacing next to the bed before he realized his feet had even taken him there. The aroma of hot chili entered his nose, distracting him from over-analyzing and going stir crazy over Granger. Not seeing Loxley since earlier, Draco saw the platter of food situated on his desk by his door. Knowing Loxley was around made him feel more comfortable so he called for him.

Just like before, Loxley appeared a couple of feet away from Draco. "Sir?"

Draco was still in the apologetic mood and knew he needed to eventually straighten things up with Loxley sooner or later. "Uh, Loxley, thank you for this late lunch. I'm glad to see you're back." Draco saw the irritation still in Loxley's wrinkled face.

"That's what I am here for, to serve." This stung Draco.

He took a deep breath, "Loxley, we have many differences and when I hired you we agreed to try and do our best when working… together. I wanted to apologize for my rash behavior lately." Loxley was immediately pleased. Taking this into account, Draco continued, "However," he paused and saw his house elf fidget, "we need to try and work with Granger. I know she is stubborn and maybe even rasher than myself," Draco knew Loxley's smile was degrading towards Granger, "but you need to try and not let her irritate you. If it helps, serve her without being in the same room as her," Draco pointed to his platter, "like you did for me." Loxley smacked his lips in disgust, and snapped his fingers. "There, now you have served lunch to her without seeing her." Loxley bit his lip. "Say what you need to Loxley."

He then bit his cheek before responding, "Sir, she doesn't like me the way she liked Dobby and that isn't right." Draco hadn't known anything to bother Loxley, besides his craving to innocently scare, he was always so stiff and blank most of the time. Loxley held character, however, it was very seldom when he showed his true feelings.

"_It seems that Granger causes everyone to lose their wits,"_ Draco responded to himself. "Please try to get past it and I will try and get her to come around," Loxley got a suspicious look and Draco panicked. Loxley would not understand anything he would be able to explain to him, and Draco needed, no, wanted to keep his unwelcome feelings where they were - buried. "She won't listen to me and I don't know how long I would be able to handle being in the same room as her."

Loxley blinked with uncertainty, but found satisfaction with his master. "Eat your food, sir, before it gets cold." And with a pop, Loxley disappeared and left Draco to eat peacefully.

Draco sat at his desk and began to eat the chili. He was hoping to find any thought that didn't concern the messy-haired, well dressed, confidently outspoken witch, but he couldn't think of anything else except for her mission tonight. The spoon he had in his hand fell to the platter when he instantly caught a glimpse of an unnerving possibility that the night could hold. Dementors. The snow that started to fall from the clouds had cooled the inside of the Manor and it triggered Draco's memories.

When he was being attacked by the Dementor, it didn't take long for it to find the slivers of happiness and suck them out of Draco. It was difficult to find what made him truly happy. His past identity of torturing or bullying others was what came up first, but he knew the happiness that gave was only temporary and not true. As he continued to process what "happiness" could be to him, a face came to mind. The face held delicate, but firm features but their eyes held a certain sadness to them. Before long, Draco saw a half-smile pull up on one side and he immediately identified it as Granger's.

Draco took a deep breath and continued with his at-home study and finished his lunch. But it was useless, Granger was stuck in his mind. It would be a while before he knew Granger would want to leave on her mysterious mission and sitting in his room twirling his wand around in his fingers made it seem as if time was frozen.

When he had the urge to go downstairs and play the piano, he started to taste the zing from the chili and it didn't rest well in his mouth. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and absentmindedly double-checked his appearance, and tried to flatten out his hair but it wasn't cooperating. He threw his jacket off to the foot of his bed and pulled his shirt in place and rubbed strangling fuzz from his pants, Draco felt ready to be presentable. "_What does it matter? She is only a guest…"_ he reasoned when he took a last glance into the mirror. "_You're just going downstairs to casually play the piano - not write a piano piece for her."_

As he went downstairs, he was rather pleased to find his path empty of visitors. He lit a fire in the living room with a swish of his wand and sat down at the keys. He first only stroked the keys without any pressure; tremendous thought had captured his musical ability. Then, he straightened up in his seat and put everything into the movement of his fingers that ended up dancing across the white and black keys.

**Hermione's POV**

Music echoed through the halls and then throughout Hermione's room where she was bored out of her mind. Besides the internal confusion and bouts of emotional headaches, Hermione lay on her back staring at the ceiling. Everything seemed backward to her: Maloy's personality, the pent up aggravation she has held over the years, and the churning in her stomach she started to feel as Malfoy left her in the study. She knew exactly what it was… but she instantly denied it. The irritation of that growing feeling needed to be squashed. However, it was easy to recognize that Malfoy had apologized, really apologized and that shook Hermione to the core. Had times changed for the better?

The music intensified and Hermione felt the ache to play. It was as if the music was beckoning her to be a part of whatever it was that seemed impossible to ignore. If she were to go down there, she would want to put an end to it all; and of course, it was all about the music at the moment - the beautifully played music. She didn't want to hear the ebb and flow of each bar, she didn't want to mimic the notes being played, and she absolutely didn't want to admit that she was impressed with who was orchestrating it. Hermione flung herself out of bed and strolled downstairs.

As she stood in the doorway with arms crossed, Malfoy didn't seem to notice because he never missed a beat. It was effortless to him: his shoulders rose with the flow and his fingers crossed over each other with natural comfort. Hermione moved towards the warm fire and hoped he would notice her and stop - she didn't want to feel the ache of playing… it would make her happy - something she was scared to let Malfoy make her feel. The song was what she woke up to the first night she was here. The Malfoy Manor was the last place she would have thought she'd hear it. "_Muggle music… Beethoven."_ One of her favorites in classical music was being played absolutely beautifully by someone unexpected, someone she fought hard to feel anything but indifferent for.

"Don't you play?"

Hermione turned towards the fire, "What's it to you?"

He turned back to the keys and rang his fingers across the keys silently, "Nothing." His back straightened and softly continued where he left off.

The musical notes flowed from his fingers and began to dance around Hermione, creating eagerness heavily weighing inside of her. She crossed her arms in denial. "Beethoven?" Her words crossed her lips with betrayal.

No notes were skipped, "What's it to you?" He mimicked.

Wide-eyed, she challenged, "That's muggle music." The tune fastened pace. "Goes against your nature." It was harsher than she had intended, but it was too late.

He abruptly stopped and she saw his chest rise and fall. Malfoy scanned the keys trying to control his tongue and Hermione instantly regretted what she said. He pushed his hair back out of his eyes, "You know nothing about my nature, Granger." The ice in his voice was enough to freeze over the Black Lake.

The amount of regret she did contain wasn't able to swallow up her already pent up aggression. "I don't?" She held her arms harder and tapped her foot with impatience, "You defile all that you touch, your words are laced with venom, you slice through your opponent with cruelty and you use your large foot to kick people when they're down." The flatness in her tone was forced and she kept quiet before her words betrayed her true intentions once more. She knew what she said was true when they were in school, but did she believe them wholeheartedly for the Malfoy who was in front of her?

She caught a sneer of unbelief before he wiped it away. With a clenched jaw, he spoke through his teeth "Oh, of course. The great Granger knows everything." The sarcasm was laid on thick. Before getting the chance to retort, Malfoy swiftly stood and left the room.

In the past year, loneliness was never a stranger to Hermione, but as he left the room and left her sight, she had never felt the sting of loneliness be unusually harsh. The faint echo of his last tune faded, and the fire had calmed it's popping, leaving her thoughts with unchecked volume. All of the comments were justified, that's exactly how he acted and how he was - as a teenager. The growth of maturity in what she unwillingly witnessed, unquestionably denied, had blindsided her. The growth she discarded before, was indeed there. The Malfoy she desperately sought from years ago had transformed into someone who had been aged by stress but had been blossomed with maturity. Unfortunately, this realization came too late and was uncomfortable to admit.

To Hermione, reason and understanding should be a top priority. Too many little things got under her skin, and it was too much to look past even if Malfoy's maturity level had risen. "_The way he pushes his hair from his eyes when he thinks too hard, the way he clenches his jaw attempting to hold his tongue, and especially the way he huffs and puffs in defense when he knows he's losing,"_ her mind wouldn't stop finding noticeable pet peeves.

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything, just the plot. I'm not that good!**

**Please remember, I am a novice writer and I don't expect any of this to become a professional career one day. In saying that, I do this because it's fun to write and since there is a lack of Dramione fanfic out there, I feel it's my duty to add another in the universe. Of course, that's sarcasm!**

**Anyways, thank you for all who are following the story. I hope you're enjoying it and staying safe during this weird turn of events in our world! Just remember, hope is out there!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7** **Draco's POV**

The afternoon passed and Draco couldn't handle being in his room for one more minute or insanity would settle. The coolness that blanketed the frosted ground outside called for Draco's company. He still felt the sting from Granger's words, no matter how much he saw it tormented her to say such things - she was trying to believe them, but couldn't. Yes, he believed wholeheartedly that would be a spot-on description for him as a teenager, but he saw that Granger noticed that too. He told himself he shouldn't care if she was convinced otherwise, but something jostled inside of him when the thought crossed his mind of her not being happy in his presence. His stomach was churning again - he needed that walk to clear his head. When he reached for the bedroom door, he paused as he heard a thud from the other side.

Draco opened the door slowly (hoping no one was on the other side ready to fall on him.) When he peeked out, Granger was sitting a couple of feet past her door sitting in the hallway with her legs stretched out and leaning her back on her bedroom wall. She was bouncing a ball to the opposite wall and catching it when it bounced back. Draco took a deep breath -withheld an eye roll- and left his room. Granger almost lost the ball when she hurried to stand up in surprise.

Granger pulled her hair behind her ears, "Oh, sorry… I didn't know you were up here." She tried to toss the ball to her other hand, but it slipped past her fingers and bounced towards Draco.

"No worries. Here." Draco tossed the ball back and she caught it with ease. Something was deeply concerning her, but he didn't _want _to care so he continued without words. Motioning her to sit back down, Draco slid down the opposite wall and cupped his hands out for the ball.

For the next couple of minutes, they sat in each other's silent company tossing and catching the ball. Draco's legs were longer than Granger's and while they sat there he fought the temptation to shift where he sat to inch closer to her. Fighting within himself had caused his hands to be distracted and instead of catching it, he accidentally hit the ball further down the hall. The ball bounced its way down to the corner of the hall and down the stairs.

As Granger stood up, Draco mimicked her movements. "I'll go get it," she went to walk away, but he automatically reached for her arm and stopped her. She looked down and then shot up in confusion. "What?" He immediately released her arm wanting to kick himself in the shin.

He tried to recover, "We don't have to walk to it." Draco pulled his black design-free wand out of his pocket, "_Accio_ ball. See?" He instantly convinced himself he was only trying to prove her wrong - that's how it was from the moment he decided to follow her back to her shop. Being distracted from his spell, the ball flung straight back to him and pegged him in his cheek.

Draco cupped his stinging face while cursing the ball and trying to ignore the belting laughter coming from Granger. She was bent over holding her stomach as she laughed until tears filled her chocolate eyes. The ball was now slowly rolling around on the floor at his feet when he grabbed it and threw it back down the hallway and watched it bounce down the stairs again. The sting didn't linger nor hurt as much as his humiliation.

Granger tried to hold herself up straight and slowed her laughter. "My! That was… hilarious!" Draco stood in front of her with a flat face, but she continued. "Sorry, but it…haha…was very much what I needed!"

"I'm usually the one who laughs at people when they get hurt, not the other way around," he blurted out, keeping his scowl. But something twitched inside of his chest at the sound of her laughter.

She calmed down a little bit more, and took a deep breath to try and control her laughter, "Wow, alright." Snickers continued to bleed through her words as she spoke. "Here, turn your face. Let me see the damage." She gripped his chin and twisted his head to the side so she could examine his mark. "It looks like... you're fine." Draco felt her hand loosen up but then she continued to keep her grip on his chin.

Turning his head back to face her, she dropped her hand from his face. "What were you doing here in the hall anyway?" Draco ignored the continual tingling feeling that was still resting on his chin from where her hand rested. She shrugged. "I'll go down then." It almost hurt trying to keep an invitation from her.

Granger had stepped back and held her arm forward towards the stairs, "After you."

Draco tensed up as he walked by, trying to close himself to her. But after years of ignoring and denying any such feelings other than hatred towards her, he had finally been able to analyze her and see her without any other influence. He let his mind run with wonder.

**Hermione's POV**

As Malfoy led the way down the hall, Hermione's eyes were uncontrollably glued to his figure. The snobbish attitude and privileged aura he wore proudly for as long as she could remember were not illuminating off of him. It hadn't been there the whole time she'd been with him these past couple of days. Many ideals and customs had been beaten into him his whole life, and the result of such teachings and the will to seek out his own ideals have left him empty and alone. Hermione's craving to study and dissect new things were starting to bubble, but she scrunched her brows together resisting it as much as she could.

The light stubble of his chin had pierced Hermione's touch and ignited an unidentifiable feeling inside of her. As they continued to travel down the stairs, she was trying to compose a logical reason on what made her feel as if the churning in her stomach that wasn't related to nausea. The will to stay stiff and distant was starting to struggle with her confusing emotions to find happiness and closeness. There was something about the way Malfoy stood there, while holding his chin, which made her see clearly. The feeling that came from it was incomparable to the way Ron made her feel. It had saddened her when she finally admitted it had been weeks where she had to put effort into bringing a memory of Ron. Memories of him had been completely natural and constant before. "_I still dislike Malfoy very much… I'm only trying to be nice because he was nice to me once in his life. He was mean and hateful towards everyone, especially Ron and his family. It was pretty funny to watch Ron puke slugs, though."_

"What's so funny?" Malfoy questioned. As she debated on whether or not to tell him, she watched as he hesitated on which hallway to go towards. Unknowingly to her as to why he stared at the front door for so long, he decided to take a right and entered the room filled with Christmas decorations heading straight for the piano.

Hermione shrugged him away and continued thinking, "_That is also when he called me a… in his defense he was twelve… but has he changed out of that immature boy into something more… agreeable? Does it matter? I just want to keep the wrong man out of trouble, I would do it for anyone."_ Hermione automatically went and stood by the fire when they entered the room and was pulled from her trance when a soft tune came from behind her. This time, she allowed the music to soothe her instead of allowing it to chill her to the bone.

Her head tilted slightly towards the peaceful music trying not to show too much interest. The phantom feeling of ivory keys underneath her fingers gave her a longing to play again. Hermione remembered the lessons she had as a child and how it saddened her to lose touch with it after being at Hogwarts. To her amazement, Malfoy had been playing completely out of emotion and beauty, and she couldn't figure out how long she had been watching him play. Malfoy's fingers glided across the keys with no effort.

The softness of the tune faded out as he didn't move his fingers to the next set of keys. Without looking up, he stated, "Granger, you're too close." Hermione stumbled back when she noticed she had started to lean on the piano near the higher octave set of keys. Her heart's pounding had replaced the beating of her eardrums, and she found her way back to the couch. "Why don't you find some books, or something, to stare at?" She noticed how his question wasn't as cold as he probably had meant for it to sound.

A little annoyed, she got up from the couch and grabbed a random book off of the mantle above the fireplace. As she sat, she pretended to read it, and flipped through the pages. Through her daze, she caught a glimpse of the word "Dementor" but when she searched the pages to examine it further, she noticed there were many instances where "Dementor" had been used. Closing the book, Hermione read the title aloud, "_Memories be Filled_." She was taken aback when Malfoy had rushed to her side and snatched the book away from her.

"Not that one," Malfoy pulled his wand out and charmed the book to disappear.

Hermione stood instantly, "Blimey, Malfoy, calm down." When she saw that he was calmer than she anticipated, she started to collect herself again. "You didn't have to snatch it from me," she said coolly. Arms crossed and tightened eyebrows, Hermione was not backing down from this explanation. As she analyzed his behavior and went through her recent memory of the book, it then dawned on her. The pages had notes written throughout the margins and paragraphs. "What makes it so special?"

Malfoy stood heavier on one foot, and swept through his blond hair with his long fingers. Thinking of a response, he rubbed the stubble on his chin. His greyish blue eyes then stared into the fireplace and slowly he began to reply, "Look… it's only that… oh, never mind."

Curiosity sparked in her as she saw him beaten, broken even. "Could I help?" Two things seemed off-balanced with the situation and she tried to piece together the Dementor's attack and this book. Many questions started to fester as the silence grew. "_Why isn't he angry or as mean as before? This is Malfoy we are talking about! The one who constantly got in our way, making our lives unbearable at times during school. The same Malfoy that fought with evil and chose fear instead of courage. Why are the Dementors after him and why does he always have to be completely rigid all the time?"_ A loud sigh came from the blond-haired man. Everything inside of her wanted to be upset with him, for something, anything, but she was only able to grab ahold of the curiosity, scaring her to death.

"Ridiculous…" knowing it wasn't aimed towards her, Hermione's nerves got the best of her when she realized there was no comfort in seeking anything new out. Avoiding eye contact with her, Malfoy shuffled out of the room, "Come on." His body was as tense as his command.

"_There is no reason for me to follow. I am NOT interested in whatever silly pointless thing he is hiding. Dementors attack people, yeah… but why him? What makes me want to help someone who dooms everyone he is around? Nothing about this makes any sense – but that's what has to be figured out… no!" _Her thoughts were louder than any other senses as he walked her into the familiar den that held the secret passage door. Trying to focus on the steps, she crossed her arms across her chest and scowled at her own mind. "_I don't want to help him, I can't help him… I simply can't. There is always more than meets the eye, but could that be true to 'Malfoy'? How can I even help when I don't know what this is about? The house elf said he was too proud to admit failure, or something like that – maybe I said that." _Lost in her thoughts, she missed the last step of the stairs and turned her ankle causing her to stumble over into the doorway of the dungeon.

Malfoy had quick enough reflexes to twist and reach around before she crashed into the stone wall. He had hooked his arms up under hers and pulled her away from the stairs and closer to him, to safety (but she wouldn't admit that.) When she was able to regain her footing on solid ground, Hermione's heart was pounding with adrenaline and excitement. Hermione was attempting to catch her breath, but then started to fail when she felt Malfoy's arms slide down from being wrapped around her shoulders to her lower back, and pulling her slightly closer to him. Her arms were around his shoulders and her hands were strongly gripping onto his jacket near his neck. She took a deep breath hoping to find more like it, and she inhaled the invigorating cinnamon scent from before. All in one motion, she immediately released his jacket and peeled her arms from around Malfoy. He took a step back, and let her stand on her own.

**Draco's POV**

Like every other time, he tried to insult her, but instead teased, "Why is it that you are always falling into my arms? Am I that irresistible, Granger?" Draco saw her choke on the air she was lacking and almost tripped again when she walked around to the other side of the table. Clenching his jaw wishing he could take it back, he ignored what she had picked up and started to examine, and then he strolled to the cauldron that had been bubbling.

Without any warning, Draco turned for a bottle on the next table and almost bumped into Granger. "Oh, sorry. I was only looking," the words were very coy and she began to twirl a loose strand of hair.

Draco awkwardly pulled from her space and back towards the cauldron. It was making him anxious to know she was watching his every movement. Trying to get over his anxiousness, he needed to be firm and demanding. He wanted her to explore her true nature. The very thing she had been blatantly ignoring for days - maybe even longer. "You figure it out." Granger had left his sight and pulled a chair out from behind him. He turned and saw her messing with the end of her jacket and fixing her hair in stubborn denial. "Too hard for you?"

She blinked hard and gazed around at everything in the room, "No." Draco couldn't figure out why she was determined to stay blocked off from everything.

"Fine, then hand me that book over there." If she saw the materials he was using, maybe she would be interested. There was a noticeable difference in her personality, and it struck him the wrong way. The know-it-all smarty-pants he had dreaded having classes at Hogwarts had finally gone silent. She nonchalantly grabbed it and handed it to him with no interest. He quickly picked the closest thing up to fill both his hands, "Read the first sentence in the third paragraph on page 147."

Granger flopped back into her seat and flipped through the pages. "Fine… '_Search where it might be the deepest, then go further. Use the blue to get the white, and then change it to blue.'_ Sounds like madness to me…" her voice was tense.

She kept her head down in the book, but not reading it. Pain and sorrow had taken away her gumption and initiative, which created a lonely woman that Draco recognized not to be the annoying know-it-all he had remembered at Hogwarts. She slumped over in her chair, staring at the book, needed life and enthusiasm, and Draco told himself he only pitied her but deep down he knew that was not the case. The bottles in his hand were placed on the table closest to her, and he had willingly bent down in front of her to be eye level. She was contemplating something, struggling and Draco was now determined to find out what was causing the weight of the world to be strapped onto this undeserving person.

When she kept her glare glued to the page, he spoke softly, "What's changed you to be this closed-off person to the world? Where is the liveliness to be known as Potter's best friend?" He didn't dare bring up the Weasel. She tossed the book on the table, turned the opposite way and got out of the chair without acknowledging him. Concern turned to frustration. "What does that part in the book mean?" His voice was now slightly deeper than before, wanting her to think only for a second of her cleverness - to a time where she was happier.

Granger had walked to the other side of the table and leaned against it turning her back towards Draco. "It means nothing to me. I don't care to read it." Her voice was as cold as ice.

Disregarding the blockade she was enforcing, he followed her around the table. "You do care! What is bloody wrong with you? The great 'Hermione Granger' is stumped by a simple sentence. I would have never thought I'd see the day!" Mocking her had not changed her attitude.

She spat, "What do you know?" Granger had stepped up and faced Draco and stared at him cutting into his soul. "And what's it to you? Who cares if I can't figure things out as easily as before? Nothing in this room interests me, especially you, Malfoy." When he hardened his stare back at her, he found emptiness – something she denied. "What if my interests have changed, so what?"

He bowed his chest out and stepped closer starting to get angry, "You are a fool if you think that! They haven't changed, they have been buried! You can't always hide behind the grief you _think _you feel. Just figure out what the sentence means!" Draco had mortified her into realization. He hadn't meant to show that much concern for her well-being, but it was now undeniably there.

The feeling to restore her, to bring her back to life, had overpowered Draco. She had been beaten by something and hadn't been able to recover favorably and she was holding onto past guilt that continued to eat at her alive. Draco couldn't deny the feeling of being the one to pick up the pieces to complete the puzzle that stood in front of him.

Rubbing her face with her hand and then keeping it hidden, he knew Granger was trying to hide her shame, "You don't get it. I literally can't feel it anymore! I don't have what it takes. After all that has happened, I am surprised to see myself casting simple charms! It literally took everything I had to conjure a Patronus." Granger's voice broke, but she fought hard to hold her tears in.

Draco was completely annoyed with how much Granger had doubted herself. As they argued, he kept threatening her personal space resulting in her to back up. When the wall stopped her movements she could feel herself giving in and allowing her self-esteem wither away.

Granger caught the smell of mint as he spoke. "You are the best at what needs to be done! Why can't you get over your stubbornness and notice that?" He punched the wall beside her, flinching her head up and forcing her to lock onto his grey eyes. The anger she expected was nonexistent, but she could only see...care. "Come on, Hermione! Search yourself and stop being so dramatic!" Sighing in frustration, he flattened his hand out onto the wall and braced himself with it. Only inches apart, many unfamiliar senses had engulfed Draco and he then realized he wanted to push her beyond her limits and prove to her that she was much more. The flare she used to have had been suffocated and buried, and even he couldn't deny how great it had affected him. He was able to break from the swirl of lostness resting inside of her eyes as he lowered his head. The defeat she had been radiating off of had nearly consumed him. The blond-haired man hovering over her had started to back down and step back from the wide brown-eyed girl.

Draco's movement was halted by her weak voice, "What did you call me?"

He scoffed and quickly turned from her, "Oh come on... how can you even ask that?" He forcibly rang his fingers through his blond locks pulling them up from his eye line and clenched his jaw. "Why do you insist on fighting - you know what, I'm not going to do this."

Remembering all the times he had insisted on a fight, she replied to him, "Just stop, will you?" Her voice was a little stronger than before when she confronted him by stepping off the wall towards him. "You know what I mean." It was the first time she heard him positively call her by her first name and never before has she felt that much care being conveyed through a simple name, her name.

Draco felt her presence behind him and his blood started to rush uncontrollably. There was a tremendous amount of thought on walking out and leaving her without a reply and it was what he wanted, he thought. There was nothing inside of him that gave him the need to call her by her first name again, he told himself. But instead he said in a hushed whisper, "Hermione..." He wanted to be ashamed but instead he wrestled with the source of the feelings he had for her, and he was starting to lose.

Not fully understanding what was going to happen, Draco desperately wanted to face her, face his fears, face his humiliation. From behind, she had reached past him, softly brushing his arm to grab the book she flung onto the table just moments ago. As she pulled it back towards her, Draco took a hold of the book and followed her motions, turning himself to face her. He was in between the table and … Hermione. The need to close the gap between them was too strong for his own self-control. When she had pulled the book up filling the space, he stood in anticipation as she silently read the page from before.

She held it slightly higher and turned it upright towards him. Pointing, she broke apart the sentence, "It's a forward and backward motion. You're only thinking of one way, there isn't one way to everything."

Slightly relieved of her openness, he lifted his hand to hold the back of the book to take it, but instead he accidentally sandwiched her hand between his and the book. Noticing Hermione's short gasp for air when their hands touched, he felt goosebumps rush up his arm and through his chest, zapping it into overdrive. As they caught each other's glances, Draco saw there was a sparkle in Hermione's eyes that had been hidden and Draco couldn't help feeling boastful. Using his other hand to take the book away from both of their grasps, he was shocked when she hadn't moved her hand along with the book. A twitch on one side of her pink lips had tried to hide a smile when he felt Hermione give the tiniest squeeze to his hand. Breaking off from his stare from her eyes, he quickly glanced down to her lips, and then back up to her longing brown eyes.

Hermione very noticeably swallowed a rock, trying to conjure up a coherent sentence. "Why are you… trying to make a Patronus from a potion?" No matter how thought out the question was, for Hermione it was the most difficult she had ever produced. Draco's brows scrunched together in frustration not answering her. She took a sharp breath as he found a loose strand of curl with two of his fingers and slowly pushed it back behind her ear. Her eyes glued to him, "I don't think… it'll work." He wasn't exactly sure what made him do that, but he knew he was tired of fighting the feeling for almost a decade.

Not breaking his gaze from her now-replaced curl, he rested his fingertips on her jawline under her earlobe, he whispered, "Why not?"

The longer he kept slight contact with her skin, the faster he could sense her heartbeat quicken. Draco wanted to break away from the contact he made with her, but the connection was too much. He watched her as she stumbled with forming a sentence.

She could barely move words past her lips, "It's hard to place something," she stumbled to find the end of her reply, "where something else was before."

Draco lowered both their hands between them, and started to slowly interlace his fingers with hers, "Only if the person is willing, right?" The little sparks that flew through the nerves throughout his entire body was stimulating. He wasn't sure how he had gotten this far, but he wasn't planning on ignoring it. And with no denial from Hermione, Draco had fully interlocked their fingers together; the rush of pink that was plastered over her cheeks made his lips twitch into a smile. He was then able to fully disregard all denial he had of his feelings and he was able to close the gap in between them by taking a step forward. Not wanting to look anywhere else, Draco took in the sight of Hermione Granger and then kept his eyes on her sweet brown eyes.

A smile crept through with her words, "But it takes time, and patience… it can be dangerous, it's very unknown, unpredictable even." Draco caught the flicker in her eyes of wanting more, but it vanished as quickly as it came. Hermione eased out of his grasp backing away. "Creating potions has always been complicated, you know?"

Even though Draco wanted more, he let her go willingly. "What's the solution then… Hermione?" A warm smile met his question. When she blushed pink, he saw her try and cover it up with rubbing one side of her cheeks while turning away.

She picked the book up and wrapped it closely to her chest, "I guess I can research it?" After swallowing, she added, "Wasn't that what you wanted?" Draco closely followed her out of the dungeon with a skip in his step.

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything, just the plot. I'm not that good!**

**Thank you all for still sticking with me on this project of mine! I will tell you, this has been such a learning experience for me. As always, I hope you all enjoy it. **


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